Sutures et le Sucre
by blackberry-creampuff
Summary: Zenas Ronan finds no glory in becoming the new generation of Scouting Legion veteran – his career has been little more than a prodding at an old wound. With the arrival of Wil Ives, a promising young field medic crippled by self-righteousness, it seems as though things are only going to get worse. How far can you blur the line between hurt and healing? [Rated for adult content.]
1. Chapter 1: Winter's Son

**A Note from the Authors:** Written collaboratively, and as a result styles may differ slightly. Rating is for explicit content in later chapters (graphic violence and sexual situations) - do not proceed further if you are not of the age of majority or are otherwise uncomfortable with such content.

Story begins a year before the 104th join.

* * *

 **Chapter 1: Winter's Son**

"...and those of you who wish to join other branches are now dismissed. I wish you luck in your chosen paths."

Wil felt a shiver creep up through his feet from the ground and into his legs; it made them move, made him walk away. Although the Garrison was going to be his temporary station, he felt as though he'd already chosen the Scouts. It was going to be a very short year of additional medical training, before he transferred.

The shiver traveled up his spine and he folded his arms to keep it from being obvious. The sound of the departing footsteps walking with him seemed like a thunder and he repeated his father's words to himself like a mantra to keep away complacency.

 _"There's a far nobler cause out there, beyond the Walls. It takes good men - great men - to go out to kill and eventually meet their own death, and it is easy, in a way; those of us more interested in life must be made of stronger stuff in order to save it. You are my son - you must balance the scales."_

 _I must balance the scales,_ Wil thought, feeling his father's hand on his back as if he still stood on the doorstep of their home in Utopia, waiting for a horse to be brought.

At the archway of the yard, Wil paused and turned. The last of them that were leaving filed passed him and he barely saw their faces.

Commander Erwin Smith stood on the stage in front of those that remained, flanked by tarnished unlit braziers that regained a little of their old luster in the muted sunshine. He was almost imperceptibly scanning the diminished crowd and Wil let himself do the same. There were only a handful of cadets remaining - he counted - twelve. Just twelve. Out of a class of at least eighty from the Northern Division. How many would there be from the other Divisions, he wondered?

When the footsteps died away, it started to snow -the first snow of the year - and the Commander tried to smile at them. He held up a palm to catch a few flakes. "A lucky omen." He caught Wil's eye.

Wil didn't believe in luck. He barely believed in the salute he had hammered into his chest countless times until it bruised. But he did believe in his calling.

 _I'll be with you in a year,_ he thought, and turned away.

* * *

 _(About a year later)_

They were too raw, unbloodied, and useless. Zenas scoffed at the new recruits with the rest of his fellow veterans. Only a handful again this year. He doubted the survival of all but three or four come the next expedition. One in particular had the look of an elitist about him; his blue eyes were flashing with a demented sense of over-importance.

"Don't put that twerp in our squad." He glanced over at Welcome and received a shrug as a response. "He reminds me of my brothers." Left to his own devices, that kid would get everyone killed. Zenas shoved his hands deep into his pockets.

"I'm assuming you're referring to Wil Ives." Welcome glanced down at the roster in his hand and flipped a few pages. "Comes from Utopia. He's got promising talent as a field medic, but his instructor mentions that he doesn't work well with others. You two should get along great." Welcome smirked, but his brown eyes weren't laughing. He knew that kid was no good too.

Without another word, Zenas turned his back to the new recruits and sought out his hiding place. He was reluctant to have any of these new kids on his squad, though there was an open slot and it had to be filled. No one could replace Dorian, but one of these newbies would have to do the trick for now...

* * *

Wil only got two steps in the leading-away of his pale mare; the sudden appearance of a young woman about his height with close-cropped brown hair and a spare cloak in her arms interrupted his path. She was smiling at him and it made her elfin face into a heart. He couldn't remember the last time someone had smiled at him that wasn't family and it made him warier still.

"Ives, right?" she checked. She seemed to take Wil's suspicious nod in her stride and shook his hand, "Kitty Bailey. Here," she handed him the cloak with the embroidered Scouting Legion emblem gleaming up at him. "You're with us." Her head jerked over her shoulder to indicate two other Scouts loitering by one of the side-entrances to Headquarters. "I'll introduce you."

Reluctantly Wil followed her, tugging Comet behind him.

"Carter Brook," she gestured at the stocky, fairly short man who stood up from the doorstep. His hands were occupied with stripping a piece of vine of its bark but he nodded to him, his large dark gray eyes as wary as Wil's own. "Draiga Buchanan," she pointed at a smaller, dark woman with sharp eyebrows, eyes, mouth - even her thin hair seemed sharp - who did nothing more than look at him and blink.

"Only four?" was all Wil could think to say.

Brook snorted.

"Oh, Toby's around here someone," Bailey craned her head to look past him and the horse. Wil followed her line of sight to two men talking a short distance away, one a curly-haired blond with a roster in his hand and the other, an olive-skinned athletic sort with light brown hair and five-day stubble, clapping him on his shoulder and moving their direction. "Tobias Spiegel, Squad Leader. Hates his last name - just use 'Tobias'."

When Spiegel got closer, he gave Wil the same wary smile as Bailey had. "You must be our newest addition," he said. His voice was a drawl that grated on Wil's nerves. "I'd say 'welcome', but this is hardly the kind of place you're happy somebody arrives at."

"I'd like to think things will start to look up, now that I'm here," Wil said, the hand that didn't hold Comet's bridle slinging the cloak over his saddle and trailing to his medical satchel strapped behind it.

The four raised their eyebrows and gave one another smirks before laughing heartily.

"Go put up your horse, Ives," Spiegel was still laughing. "And put up that attitude while you're at it. This ain't your personal guard and you're not here to play nurse, no matter how much Kit likes that kinda thing." He pushed past him on his way inside.

Bailey scoffed at the comment. She and Brook turned to follow Spiegel. Buchanan, trailing behind them, jerked her pointy chin at Wil's cloak, "That isn't a saddle blanket. That's your new skin. Remember that."

* * *

 _(Fifteen days later)_

"Dammit!"

Zenas didn't look. He knew what Welcome was cursing about. He could see the black flares cutting through the soft blue of the sky. Green flares drove their course in the opposite direction, but he knew it was too late. They were on the far left flank, just behind the scouting group that detected the Abnormal. He dropped the reins to the spare horse that galloped beside him. It was too late.

"Wel!" Zenas galloped forward to reach his squad leader's side. "Are we going to go for it?"

Welcome gritted his teeth. "We don't have a choice."

He was right. The Abnormal was stomping their way, it's tuft of blond hair snapping in the breeze. It had a soldier in its left hand, but it's arms were so long that they were dragging over the ground. The soldier was dead, his or her face having been obliterated by the earth that scraped over the remaining scraps of flesh and bone.

Zenas broke away from Welcome and signaled to the newbie, Dag. He broke his place in the already decimated formation and joined them. Gemma was still ahead of Welcome, but she knew what to do. He watched as she lifted herself, hopping up so that her feet were resting in the saddle beneath her.

"Alright kid, listen up and listen good." Zenas glanced over at him for just a second. He was terrified: face pale and shining with sweat, hands shaking. "We have to engage it or it will tear through the formation. You are going to stay on the ground, got it? Just like we practiced. Get ahead of it and try to lead it in a straight line. Head for the trees."

Dag nodded, licking his lips and taking a deep breath. "Just... just like we practiced. Right." A wary look of determination crossed his features, but that didn't put Zenas at ease. If anything, it made him even more anxious.

The Titan was only a few meters away now. Welcome raised his hand high, their signal to break apart. Gemma launched herself from the saddle, performing her spectacular back flip as the cables shot out. Each one hit the Titan. Dag raced forward, one blade flashing in the sunlight. Zenas and Welcome split apart and fell behind, watching Gemma as she swung herself around the Titan.

One of the beast's massive arms lifted high, brushing one of Gemma's cables to the side. Zenas heard Welcome curse again, and together they shot into the air. Zenas pushed himself faster, spun, and dug his blades into the Titan's neck. The moment he was away, Welcome was adding his own cut to ensure the Titan's fall.

They heard the crunch as the Titan hit the ground. He and Welcome claimed separate trees to land in for a second. Zenas could see Dag's horse, but no Dag. He looked over at Welcome and found a pained expression. Glancing back to the ground. He spotted the blood-stained green cloak crushed between the Titan's forearm and a tree. Gemma was in another tree, having recovered, and she threw a grateful look their way. Zenas just nodded to her once.

One sharp whistle later and their horses were below, so Zenas and Welcome descended. They raced ahead to rejoin the formation, unable to claim the bodies of those two who'd fought beside them. He didn't even know who the other soldier had been...

He forced everything away, focusing on the surrounding area. The trees were easier to fight in, but harder to see flares through. He caught a glimpse of another green flare far to the right. Welcome didn't say a word, they just changed directions and raced ahead at full speed. There was little else they could do.

* * *

The kid was officially a bad luck charm. He'd lost his entire squad already, and no matter how many busted ankles and wrists he taped up, he couldn't make up for that. If Welcome had the capacity to hate a person, Zenas knew it would be Wil. Tobias had been Welcome's friend since they were trainees, but now Tobias was dead. They couldn't say that it was Wil's fault, but Zenas couldn't get away from the thought.

They'd come to another stop. Unloading the supply wagons at the new checkpoint was a pain, but necessary. Anyone who was able to move had to help, leaving them all sticky with sweat from the humid late-autumn afternoon. Zenas sat the final crate from the wagon he'd been working on just outside of the small cottage. This was all relatively safe place with little Titan activity. There were only a few more hours until nightfall.

"I need a bath."

He glanced over at Wil with one eyebrow raised. "Yeah, and where do you expect to get one?"

Wil gestured towards the creek trickling just a few meters away. "We have a supply of fresh water."

Zenas rolled his eyes before grabbing the crowbar to pry off the nailed-shut lid of the crate he'd just deposited. "We don't have time for that nonsense."

He could see the frustration building under Wil's skin. It was in the way his jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed as he angrily brushed away a few strands of hair that clung to his cheeks. If he wasn't so annoyed with the kid, he might have laughed.

"Ives!" Squad Leader Hange was jogging for them, one hand raised in the air. "Come with me." Zenas followed too, curious. Welcome had told him not to let the kid out of his sight as well. He'd like to say that he didn't know why, but he could remember his own first expedition with perfect clarity. The urge to just run away from the death and stress was overwhelming for certain newbies.

They were headed for one of the cottages in the center of the village. It was the largest one. Hange ushered Wil inside, but didn't bother to block Zenas' path. He knew to make himself scarce, so he stood against the wall, watching in silence. There was another newbie stretched out on a dusty bed, blood seeping from a deep gash in her arm. He felt his stomach churn at the sight of her bone poking through her skin.

"I need clean water and my bag." Ives glanced around the room for a quick moment, but realized the things he needed weren't present. Zenas narrowed his eyes as Wil's gaze rested on him. "Quickly." In the next second, Wil was tugging at her harness, snatching off one of the belts and binding it around her arm above the deep cut and shattered bone.

Zenas knew the life of this girl was more important than his pride. He remembered Wil leaving the bag out where they were working, so he grabbed it first and ran it back to the cottage. The scene hadn't changed much. Wil took the bag and looked at Zenas expectantly.

"What?" He knew his tone was too harsh, but he didn't care. This kid's arrogant attitude was pissing him off.

"I need water. Soap, too." Wil was just standing there, waiting for his demands to be magically obeyed.

"What for?" Zenas pointed at the girl behind Wil. "She's bleeding out and you're just standing there!"

"I've still got blood on my hands from my squad!" Wil shouted, leaning forward. "Not to mention that I'm sweaty and dirty. If I take care of her now, an infection would kill her before we even made it back."

Zenas ground his teeth together, but turned on his heel and stomped back outside. He returned with Wil's soap and water and watched as he scrubbed his hands and arms furiously before turning to the girl.

It was only after Wil had finished with her that Zenas dragged him back outside by his collar. The sun was sinking over the horizon, leaving everything tinted with a runny orange hue. Wil jerked away from him.

"What's your problem, Ronan?" His shout attracted the attention of the few milling about.

"You're a pretentious little shit!" Zenas was done with holding in his frustration. Welcome should have known better than to pair them up. "Sitting there barking orders like you run this whole operation. It makes me sick!"

Wil stood his ground, though Zenas was thinking of all of the ways to snap his wiry frame clean in half. "What would you have me do? Leave her there to bleed to death while I worry about finding the essentials?"

"This not the time or the place!" Hange stepped between them, her hands against their chests as she shoved them apart. Zenas hasn't realized how close they'd been. "She's awake, but she says she can't see. Wil?"

Zenas bit down on his tongue as the kid stalked by him on his way back inside. He made to stomp back to where his work was waiting, but only made it two steps before he was intercepted.

Levi was scowling up at him. "You're filthy. You have no business being in there."

"Shut up." Zenas stepped around him, his rage threatening to boil out of him. He retreated to the area he'd been in before and began to unload the crates, his exhaustion undermined by his anger.

By the time night had fully settled over him, Zenas was resting against the wall of the cottage alone, facing the black open world before him. He cursed himself. There was too much death. Welcome found him much later, half-asleep with his head propped against the wall. They went inside without a word, shared their lousy field rations, and sprawled out on their sleeping bags on the floor. Words weren't helpful, and they both knew it. They could mourn in private later, after they'd returned. Strong alcohol and fist fights had a way of soothing Zenas that almost nothing else could compare to.


	2. Chapter 2: The Dead and the Dying Part I

**A Note from the Authors:** Written collaboratively, and as a result styles may differ slightly. Rating is for explicit content in later chapters (graphic violence and sexual situations) - do not proceed further if you are not of the age of majority or are otherwise uncomfortable with such content.

* * *

 **Chapter 2: The Dead and the Dying – Part I**

They were his second squad, and it was only now that Wil realized that they had never considered it a privilege to have him with them. His chest felt hollow as he also realized that his first squad had likely felt the same way.

He felt heavy and as unable to veer from his course as the sleet that buffered them; to his right, as he flew across the gap between abandoned mill and dilapidated barn, the trio of eight-meters seemed to act in unison and lashed out at the four members of his squad that were attempting to coordinate an attack. Wil had been left on the outskirts, too slow to catch up after squabbling yet again with his Squad Leader. His initiative had led him one way, and Horace's had led him another. They had been separated by a gulf of cold.

One of the Titans caught Gemma in a snap of a bite and snagged Abel's line, stubby fingers nonetheless quickly finding the prize at the end.

Another smashed Xil against the ground.

And Horace...Horace was garotted on Abel's line and the third Titan seized him, stuffing him into its mouth.

Wil threw himself upward and scaled the back of the barn. He ran over the remains of the roof, blades drawn, silent despite how much his body wanted to scream. But screaming wasn't reasonable. What was reasonable was to save.

 _To save..._

He could hear the crunch of bones.

 _I can save them._

A gurgle of blood over an untasting tongue.

 _I can save anyone._

He didn't see the fourth Titan. The last thing he felt was the barn collapsing underneath his feet and something hard hitting the back of his head as he fell, and all had gone dark.

* * *

Wil briefly awoke on the back of a galloping horse; its proper rider was behind him and he recognized the woman's hand as Acacia's by the bandage around her thumb and wrist that he'd done himself. He felt dizzy and nauseous, and his ears rang even over the whistle of the wind.

"Stay awake! You're needed!" she shouted as his lolling head brought his ear by her mouth. More sleet hit his face.

"My hands…" he groaned, trying to look down at them. He couldn't feel them. He couldn't feel much of his body, come to think of it. "Are my hands undamaged?"

"Yes you fucker your fucking hands are okay but I can't say the same thing for your squad! What the hell were you thinking?"

Wil winced. He began to fall unconscious again, but not before he recognised that for once, he wasn't thankful about his hands.

* * *

When he woke again it was because someone had grabbed his collar and dragged him off Acacia's horse by it. He barely had time to figure out where he was or right himself before his face was being whacked into the ground as he was shaken.

"Wake up you brat!" It was Captain Levi.

Wil heard Acacia attempting to calm him and shortly, Squad Leader Hanji. He balled his fists and hid them against his stomach.

"Wake up! The time's come to earn your keep and you can't even do that?"

"He's awake, Levi, give it a rest! Acacia didn't risk her life to go fetch him only for you to pick up where the Titan left off. The kid's gonna go back under if you keep thwapping him like that," Hanji said and when her footsteps churned to a stop in the snow beside his nose, so too did the shaking. He was released. He coughed. The wind was blocked as Hanji crouched beside him and he lifted his head to look at her. "Ives," she began steadily, "our other medics either haven't made it or haven't regrouped yet. I - we - need you to help Moblit. He's in pretty bad shape. Can you do that?" There was blood on her hands already, he realized.

He got to his knees and took a moment to orient himself and glance around at those who'd gathered: Acacia held her horse's reins, the Captain hovered angrily behind Hanji, other battered soldiers either rode or walked their horses in and a supply wagon clattered by. He saw the veterans Welcome and Zenas walk by; the latter cast him a glare and rolled his eyes - were they gold or green? he couldn't remember and didn't know why it was important - and was lost behind a tree.

"Ives," Hanji prompted and he heard the desperation fraying her voice.

His pale hands unfolded from his stomach and rose like proof, hovering there like broken shards of ivory, and he nodded. He saw the Captain roll his eyes too and walk away.

"Good, come on," Hanji said and helped him get to his feet, but did not support him the rest of the way.

They half-walked, half-jogged over the cold ground lightly dusted with snow, most of which had been trampled into vanilla-colored mush by now. Wil felt his calling bubbling in him, giving him energy and helping him focus, and he looked around to properly assess his surroundings: a straggly, mostly deciduous forest carved with gullies and treacherous half-buried holes and ditches. He could hear and just about see a perimeter being formed to ward off the few Titans that had chased them this far. He heard the Commander shouting orders. The sun was bright overhead and his breath fogged and streamed over his shoulder. He realized Hanji was running now to one of the open-topped wagons that bustled with even more activity and he hurried to keep up with her; the cold air burned his lungs but in a good way. He was vaguely aware of passing Welcome and Zenas again but it was a blur, like he moved in a dream.

Moblit was lying on his own and someone else's cloak at the open end of the wagon, as though he'd only recently been placed there after the other patients. He was taller than the wagon was wide and his ankles hung off the edge. Already Wil could see bright red everywhere, streaking the soldiers and the wagon and dripped and smeared into the snow and dark earth.

"Hey!" Hanji was saying to her aide, trying to be cheerful, "It's gonna be all right. Found a medic! Just a trainee but I'm sure it'll be fine!"

Moblit just about managed to catch sight of Wil and looked between him and his superior and groaned.

Wil couldn't resist narrowing his eyes. "I'm not a 'trainee', Sir," he said to Hanji as he came to stand opposite her at Moblit's feet. "My family's very well known in Utopia for -"

"Yeah yeah heard it all before - just shut up and fix him!" Hanji snapped. "You can lecture us on your fine breeding when your work's done!"

"My work's never done," he said lowly, but redirected his attention.

From what he could tell first-hand despite all the mess was that essentially, Moblit had nearly had a good portion of his right side and arm bitten off. Luckily, he seemed to have escaped by the skin of the Titan's teeth - blood-soaked clothes and dermis and sinew had been scraped nearly clean off his bones and muscle across his chest and the veteran held them in place with a quaking left hand. Wil flicked the snapped end of a gear strap out of the way with one fingertip, and stood there a moment more, unmoving. His eyes were beginning to see stitching paths and anatomical diagrams as if they were traced over Moblit's body.

"What are you just standing there for?" Moblit groaned again, his head falling back with a _clunk_. "Surely I can't lose that much more blood?"

"No," Wil agreed. "And honestly I'm not sure you'll use your right hand again but I can try. Someone find my horse or a medical kit!" he shouted at anyone who would listen.

"But... that's his drawing hand," Hanji said so quietly it was almost to herself and he nearly didn't catch it.

Wil recognized the sentiment but didn't comment or let it show. He bent to wash his own hands in the snow and had to take a few steps to find a patch that was not only deep enough but not bloodied. It reminded him that none of the bodies in the cart that he'd be saving belonged to Gemma, or Abel, or Xil, or Horace.

 _I'll make up for it. I can't waste my time,_ he assured himself as he rubbed the snow into his palm creases and between the fine bones of his fingers. He glanced up and yet again, framed between the dark bones of the trees, caught sight of Zenas sneering at him, at the hands he plucked from the snow. Wil sneered back and turned away as Hanji shoved a medic's bag at him.

* * *

Wil wasn't sure how long he worked. First it was the eight people that'd already been in the cart, and this was followed by others - a mixture of minor injuries that he sent away for the time being and larger messes that he'd never imagined he'd encounter - that followed the track of the sun. He also wasn't sure if the other medics ever made it back and were simply somewhere else attending to other people, or if it was just him. Once Moblit was fixed up as best Wil could manage for the time being, they'd moved him away by stretcher to a cleaner cart since Wil had adopted this one as an operating table of sorts, and Squad Leader Hanji had gone with him.

It was easy to block everything out and focus on blood, flesh, bones, miles of gauze and surgical thread. No one helped him except to bring fresh water and new supplies, and that was for the best he supposed. He didn't like others interfering. He knew he was growing thirsty and his shirt and pants were now a myriad of reds in varying levels of stiffness. Warm from the constant exertion, he'd discarded his uniform jacket and rolled up his sleeves - his forearms and hands glistened despite the wipings and quick washings. There were no thanks and he was both prepared for and comfortable with that.

Gemma. Abel. Xil. Horace. One more leg splinted.

Gemma. Abel. Xil. Horace. One more gash cleaned and stitched.

Gemma. Abel. Xil. Horace. One more concussion observed.

A pause to stretch his back, wipe back clotted strings of his dark hair.

And before them: Bailey. Brook. Buchanan. Tobias.

Bailey. Brook. Buchanan. Tobias. Gemma. Abel. Xil. Horace.

He knew he was exhausted but what did it matter, really? He was doing what he had been sent to do. One more patient taken away, another approaching, carried.

Bailey. Brook. Buchanan. Tobias. Gemma. Abel. Xil. Horace.

Wil blinked his dry, sore eyes at the next patient - a young woman with two braided blonde pigtails who was barely conscious - as two other veterans laid her down.

 _Gemma..._

"Probably not much for you to do with this one," one of them muttered to him. "Who knows how long she laid there bleeding out."

"Would probably be a mercy to, y'know…" the other agreed. "It just didn't feel right to just leave her there."

The bottoms of her legs were in ribbons and her feet shorn off at the shin, as if she'd been ripped out of the Titan's mouth while it still clamped down on her, and he could tell that her ribcage was practically collapsed - little bubbles of blood gathered and popped on her parted lips with the gentlest of _picks_. She blinked extremely slowly but otherwise did not move.

Wil heard the men shuffle away and their shadows left his peripheral vision. He looked his squadmate over several times, wiped his hands. He gently pushed back her shattered combat goggles.

Despite the heavy feeling in his feet, he tried to move, tried to begin work. _I can do something,_ he thought to himself. _I can prove myself. This... this is just a new challenge. Everyone can be saved, you just have to know how._

* * *

"Anyone seen Gemma?" Zenas hopped from Zara's saddle and half jogged to the group of people milling about the little fire where coffee was being served to both warm them and keep them awake for the coming work. Two of the guys on the other edge of the group looked over at him, and he understood their expressions.

He'd learned about Xil's death while Wil was helping the injured. He'd been called to join the perimeter shortly after hearing the news though, and he buried his anger and grief to focus on keeping the Titans away. Now the grief returned, a millions times worse than before. His stomach felt like ice. Someone pressed a mug into his hand and he sipped at it, not really tasting the bitter black coffee and not feeling the warmth spread through him like it usually did.

Edging around the outside of the little group, he watched the other two slip away, one of them motioning for him to follow. A few meters from the others, they stopped.

"We found her," Siss said softly, clutching the mug in his hands a little tighter. "She... She wasn't gonna make it, and we knew that, but we took her to the Ives kid anyway..."

"She was... quiet most of the time." Franklin mumbled. "Kept asking for you."

More ice filled Zenas' stomach. He hadn't been there for her. He hadn't been able to protect her.

"Thanks," Zenas mumbled. He turned and left the little group behind, setting the mug on an overturned log, still mostly full with steam rising into the cold air.


	3. Chapter 3: The Dead and the Dying PartII

**A Note from the Authors:** Written collaboratively, and as a result styles may differ slightly. Rating is for explicit content in later chapters (graphic violence and sexual situations) - do not proceed further if you are not of the age of majority or are otherwise uncomfortable with such content.

* * *

 **Chapter 2: The Dead and the Dying – Part II**

 _(A couple of days later)_

Avoiding people was much harder during expeditions. Welcome generally kept the peace between him and everyone else, but when Welcome wasn't around, things got tense. Someone thought it was a good idea to toss Wil back into his squad. They'd reached the first checkpoint after dark, so the supplies were left in the covered wagons to be unloaded in the morning. He, Wil, and Welcome were stuck sharing a room.

"If you want a bath, I suggest to take it now." Welcome stopped in the center of the room dressed only in his uniform pants. His towel was draped over his shoulders, catching the water falling from his blond curls. Wil stood and grabbed his bag, shuffling out of the room.

Zenas stretched, but waited until Welcome shut the door before stripping out of his still-damp uniform. He'd dressed the instant he was clean for the others that still needed to bathe. Digging out his clean uniform, he tugged at the buttons to his shirt.

"Please tell me that _fucker_ isn't sticking with us," Zenas muttered, his back to Welcome as he yanked off his shirt. He was still angry about Xil. One of his best friends had died and that little twerp got to live... He couldn't bring himself to think about Gemma.

"Commander says it's a done deal." Welcome sighed. Zenas grimaced as his squad leader made himself comfortable on the floor. The little fireplace was blazing, warming the room, but Zenas knew the floor was cold. "I tried to talk him out of it, said you two didn't get along. He told me to tell you two to work it out. We don't have the time or the resources to waste. We'll be responding to yellow flares tomorrow."

Zenas grumbled under his breath. He struggled with his uniform pants. They were stuck to his skin. He ran his fingers along the scars on his thighs. There were two fresh marks, slim parallel lines stretching from the outside of his thigh to the inside. He redressed as quickly as he could manage, then sat down on his own sleeping bag.

They did not speak for a long time. Welcome knew what had happened, though Zenas hadn't told him. Now Zenas was wondering if Welcome had known even before he did and had purposefully withheld the information. He wanted to hate him for that, but he didn't have it in him. Even if Welcome _had_ known beforehand, he'd have kept Zenas in the dark about it until they'd reached a point where he had had a moment to accept it.

"How many?"

Welcome's question startled him. He was reluctant to answer, but Welcome wouldn't drop the subject so easily.

"Eight."

"You're bleeding." Welcome gave a heavy sigh. Zenas could see the red splotches of blood welling up and staining the white fabric. It was easy to pass off the stains, but fresh blood was different. It was too red. "Just suck it up and ask the kid."

Zenas glared at Welcome, his fists clenched. "Don't say stupid shit."

"Fine," Welcome spat, "get an infection! You're going to fuck something up. You'll die or someone else will and you'll have no one to blame but yourself." He grabbed the canteen next to him and threw it at Zenas. It hit his shoulder and clattered to the floor.

"Is this how you two pass the time?" Wil was standing in the doorway, clean and dressed. His hair was down for once, the wet black locks almost reaching his shoulders. His eyes darted to Zenas. "You're bleeding."

Zenas wasn't surprised, but he wasn't going to ask for the kid's help, either. He could hardly stand to look at him, much less ask for anything from him. Then he thought of those stupid hands of his and how he'd boasted... yet he hadn't been able to save Gemma. He knew himself too well - if he stayed as he was, he'd start throwing punches.

He stood and snatched his clean shirt from the floor. "It's nothing." He slipped by Wil on his way out the door, shoving his arms into the sleeves and working at the buttons.

If it hadn't been so cold, he'd have gone outside. The kitchen was mercifully empty though. He sat in the darker portion of the small room. His apathy eventually returned, consuming everything else within him.

There was one mark for each person he'd lost, except for the first two. Those belonged to his twin and himself. Every mark had a name, a face, a lifetime of memories... His fingers brushed over the spots of blood, smearing it over the white fabric.

"Here."

Zenas snapped his head up, his eyes narrowed, face already forming a grimace. Wil sat his bag on the edge of the table, but he didn't leave.

"What?"

"I'm not stupid." The way Wil spat the words made Zenas want to punch him. "Take care of it. We have to get up early and I'm not losing sleep because of you." He turned on his heel, but paused at the exit. "I trust you're not so pathetic as to neglect that responsibility."

Zenas stood and slipped around the table. Before Wil was gone, he grabbed his wrist and snatched him back into the kitchen. He moved both hands to the kid's shoulders and slammed him against the wall. "Don't stand there and pretend like you're so much better than everyone else." He shoved the kid harder, lifting up off of his feet. "You're an arrogant little shit."

"Put him down, idiot." Welcome came to a stop just outside of the kitchen, one hand braced on the frame where a door might have been once. "You're going to wake everyone up."

Zenas sneered, but dropped his hands. Wil grunted when he hit the floor on his butt, but he was on his feet and out of the room second later, sending Zenas a nasty look over his shoulder.

"What did you say to him?" Zenas aimed to sit down in the same chair as earlier, but Welcome grabbed his arm to stop him.

"Not a damn thing. Like he said, he's not stupid." Welcome let go of Zenas's arm when he jerked away. "Now shut up and take your fucking pants off."

"That really doesn't sound like an appropriate conversation." Zenas turned his back to the threshold. It was Petra. She probably had that silly grin on her face, but he couldn't make himself turn to look at her. They'd been squadmates once, but that was before Levi was given his own squad and stole her away. "You guys sound like you're going to tear the place down."

"I told you so," Welcome mocked. Zenas sat in the same chair as before, crossing his arms over his chest. "Sorry, Petra. This idiot and the other idiot were fighting."

"Why were you fighting with Wil?" Petra stepped into the kitchen. He watched her eyebrows draw together just slightly. She'd seen the bag, and she'd probably seen his leg before he could hide it. "What happened?"

"That kid's a brat," Welcome said for him. Zenas nodded once. "We're stuck with him now. You'd think the rich kids would stick together."

"Don't give me that, Wel." Zenas bent over the table, his elbow propping him up. His other hand hovered over his thigh. The cuts burned. He hoped Welcome would come back with something else before Petra had the chance to say more about the bag on the table.

He didn't.

"Zee, whatever is wrong, promise me you'll take care of it?" Petra was gazing at him with concern. He lowered his head and nodded once, his ears burning. She was the only one who still called him 'Zee' - Gemma never would again. "Well, good night then."

"G'night," Wel chimed. Zenas remained silent, but caught her last worried look just as she vanished around the corner. Zenas waited until the cottage was silent again before standing. Welcome grimaced. "Shit. Let's get that cleaned up."

Zenas followed silently as Welcome grabbed Wil's bag and headed for the little bathroom. It was empty and dark. Wel lit a candle as Zenas finally did as he'd been asked earlier. He sat on the edge of the tub.

"I can do it." He snatched up one of the old rags and began to wipe at the blood. The hem of his boxers only showed the two fresh cuts. The others were hidden. Wel kneeled in front of him and took the rag.

"Yeah and you do a shitty job of it." Welcome wasn't gentle, but he was quick. He smeared ointment over the cuts before grabbing the gauze. "You probably should have had stitches, but there's no point now. Just stay on your fucking horse tomorrow, okay? I don't have the time to worry about your ass."

Zenas was silent, the apathy filling him once more as Welcome tied off the gauze.

* * *

 _(The next day)_

Zenas had finally had enough of the arrogant little prick. He was acting as if he was the best thing to ever happen to the Survey Corps, like he could save anyone. Zenas was so tempted to remind him of Xil - of Gemma - but then he'd feel the familiar burn of the cuts on his thigh and he would stop himself. No matter how much he hated the brat, he didn't want anyone to ache the way he did. If that kid could move on, then it was better for him. But it didn't stop him from punching Wil.

"Zenas!" Welcome was screaming at him from across the yard while Wil held his cheek in his palm. The next thing Zenas knew, Wil was kicking him, his toe digging into his shin. "What the fuck!"

"Why did you punch me?" Wil shouted at him, lashing out with another kick. It came higher this time, almost slamming into Zenas's hip.

"For saying shit like 'I'm the only reason he's still alive'!" Zenas punched him again, clipping his ribs as Wil jumped back. "You're such a prick!"

Wil kicked again, but Zenas knocked his foot away. "It's true! I am the only reason!"

"It doesn't matter if it's true!" Zenas knocked the kid off balance and watched him fall in the snow. He stood over him. "These people are supposed to be your family now, dumb ass." There was satisfaction in watching Wil cringe every time he cursed. "You are lower than everyone else here, newbie. Quit acting like you're more than that." _You couldn't even save Gemma!_

Wil kicked him again, his heel digging into the tender spot on his right thigh where the two cuts had only just begun to heal properly. He almost fell, almost sank to his knees and started throwing fists with blind fury. Almost.

"Stop!" Welcome grabbed his shirt and forced him back. He rounded on Wil a second later. "That was low." He bent and jerked Wil upright.

"Enough of this." Erwin was behind Zenas, stalking through the snow like a lion on the prowl. Wil opened his mouth to protest. "I said 'enough'. Both of you - get inside. Now."

Zenas was familiar with this. It wasn't the first time he'd been punished for fighting. He turned to stomp back to the little cottage. The moment he put weight on his left leg, he almost fell. He wound up limping gingerly, his fists shaking with leftover rage.

"Zee?" Petra was coming out of the cottage as he was heading inside. She took stock of the situation quickly. He could only image the scene behind him. He faltered again in his steps and almost fell. Petra caught him and helped him inside. He did not sit. Erwin, Wil, and Welcome were right behind them.

"I would have expected better," Erwin began as the door closed behind them. They had no choice but to trail behind him as he went into the small living area, boots thudding on the threadbare rug and nearly taking up at the room himself by the way he whirled on them. "Do you think you're back in the training yards?" His eyes passed between Zenas and Wil.

The pair were silent, their faces grim.

"Answer me!"

"No Sir," they both mumbled.

"In case you haven't noticed, we are on expedition and our expeditions are never expected to be glorious, trouble-free affairs, which is why our success - no, our very survival - depends on our cohesion. How on earth are we supposed to make any progress if we're squabbling amongst ourselves? What kind of example does that set? What kind of faith does that inspire?"

Zenas assumed Wil must have made an odd face in the pause - he couldn't stand to look at him, personally - because Erwin continued:

"What, do you think word of this kind of nonsense doesn't reach home? That it has no effect? Every drop of ill intent reflects badly on the entire Legion and makes it that much harder for me as a Commander. This may only be your second expedition, Ives, but I won't be fooled into thinking you're naive."

"Apologies, Sir," Wil muttered, and Zenas wondered if he meant it. The kid hadn't displayed much respect for anything since he'd got here and he didn't expect him to start now.

"And Ronan," Erwin continued, stepping up to him. "I'm not accustomed to this behavior from someone of your caliber and years of service. I suggest you get yourself under control." A step back and he was addressing them both again. "We all have to work with people we don't like on occasion and I heartily recommend the two of you at least put your differences aside for the sake of our work if not for yourselves - who knows how long each of us have left in this world and ending on bad words and low blows makes it that much more of a sorrier affair." He slipped between them and paused before he left. When he turned it was like an afterthought and Zenas groaned inwardly. "In fact, to help you think about this, you can both load up our latest round of dead before day's end. We leave tomorrow to return to Trost."

"'Before day's end'?" Wil clipped. "It's almost sundown."

Erwin's brow furrowed and glared at the younger man. "Then I suggest you start right away." Another brief moment of reconsidering, then, "In fact, no, I insist." He opened the cottage door and held it wide for them.

* * *

The sky was an absurdly cheery shade of orange by the time they were loading the last of the dozen canvas-wrapped bodies into the wagon. It reminded Wil of the carnelians of his parents' signet rings, given to them upon their receipt of their doctorates. He tried not to look at it, consumed with resentment, but in looking down as Zenas took the corpses' shoulders and he took the feet, it had given him means to notice how his squadmate's leg continued to bleed where he'd kicked it.

 _Must not have done that good of stitching - if he did it at all - if it's bleeding a week later. Or did I really kick that hard?_

It wasn't that this task had made his skin crawl, exactly, but it had been sobering and he found himself surprised at the Commander's intuition, though he knew he shouldn't have been. However, Wil was more preoccupied with the concept of it, which brought out images of the soldier that'd died under his hand – the girl he couldn't save. Gemma.

They placed the body with the others with a graceless _thump_ , and the two of them stared at the pile they'd created, like matchsticks in a box. Wil looked behind them, at the thawed patch of ground where the barely-cold dead had been laid. There was one more body, smaller than the others. He knew who it belonged to. The two of them seemed to have worked around it for the past hour but now there was no avoiding her.

Wil swallowed. He took a step in her direction, but Zenas' hand landed heavily, insistently, on his shoulder and halted him. He trudged forward himself, crouched, and gathered her gently into his arms. He carried her slowly back and Wil stood aside for him to lay her with the others - he didn't release his hold for what felt like a long time. When he did, Zenas leant on the edge of the cart but Wil refused to let the tiredness of the day show; he stood with his hands clenched by his sides and his mouth pressed firmly closed. They both stared at her.

Bodies... bodies were a vessel, sure, and he had no qualms with the notion that upon death the spirit left that vessel behind, but it was a sacred vessel that deserved care and attention and proper treatment. It made him a little squeamish to just load them up like sacks of vegetables in such a dirtily anonymous fashion. But then, he supposed, it was better than leaving them behind. Something had to be saved. Whatever possible had to be saved.

The task done, wordless as the past hour or so, Zenas moved away and disguise his limp as he went. The sun was going down into the spines of the trees and casting bars of shadow everywhere; Wil watched the shadows bend over Zenas' shoulders and slip down his back as he grew farther away. He let the distance build, the darkness build. Things felt better, diffused, even if he knew it'd only be temporary.

* * *

It was completely dark by the time Wil forced himself, an hour later, to return to the cottage in which his squad were based. He didn't want to, truth be told, but his equipment was there and there was certainly nowhere else - no one else - he could go to.

 _The devil you know_ , he thought with a shrug as he braced his shoulder on the back door. Everyone should be sleeping, anyhow.

He had to shunt open the door since the frame had been warped over the years of neglect, and a flurry of snow followed him inside before he could shunt it closed again. It was only moderately warmer in here by virtue of a low fire in another room and the dark, umber-tinted space was crowded with another sleeping squad and shambles of rubble. Wil moved carefully and quietly, trying to locate his bag and a space he could bed down away from everyone else.

The fire was in the open hearth of the kitchen, and his squad slept around it. Except Zenas. Zenas had his back to him and was pulling on a clean shirt, but not quickly enough for Wil not to see a huge scattering of scars in a crescent that arced up from his right hip to his left shoulder, paler than the rest of his tea-stained skin. They disappeared under the dark green cotton and he felt an obscure disappointment in not being able to observe longer.

 _Bite marks?_ Wil wondered, keeping to the shadows until he figured out how to join the group without being obliged to converse.

Zenas sat down, then, facing the fire, and it was only by the raising of his knees that Wil realized he was only in his boxers. He took a quiet step back as if the realization made him visible and though he averted his eyes they eventually came creeping back, because Zenas was tending the cuts on the thigh Wil had kicked and there were more scars there. Eight, and too regimented to be accidents or Titan injuries.

 _I'm not stupid_ , he repeated internally the words he'd said the first time he'd found Zenas bleeding.

He'd read about self-harm as a symptom of psychosis, a coping mechanism. He never expected to see it in person - as if it was as outdated as a belief in humors - much less on a soldier. Why someone would want to deliberately cause violent harm to their body was confusing. To rend one's own flesh…

Wil shivered, but couldn't look away.

* * *

 _(Two days later)_

It shouldn't have been like this. The sky was a bright, cloudless blue - the exact shade of Gemma's eyes. The sun was high overhead and shining down on everyone, reflecting off of the snow and almost blinding him. It caught in her hair, melting the snowflakes that fell over her and left her glistening.

Mums were everywhere. He thought he'd be sick of looking at them by now, but somehow they just brought out more of Gemma's beauty. And it made him ache. She didn't even look dead anymore - though he wasn't sure how the undertaker had managed it. Dressed in white - which didn't sit well with him - her freckles stood out even more across her nose and cheeks. The frills and lace of the skirt of the dress were puffy, and it took a long moment of staring to realize that her legs weren't there.

The Stonehills - her parents - stood beside him. Lily Stonehill hadn't stopped crying, though Zenas could be grateful that she wasn't loud and obnoxious about it like some of the other girls Gemma had loosely referred to as her friends. He could hear a child wailing somewhere as well, and wondered why anyone would have a little kid at a funeral. Then he remembered his older sister Zayna's funeral and how Micha had screamed the entire time, yet no one took him away.

Nearly everyone else had come and gone, yet Zenas couldn't move from his spot. His brothers had been by, his mother and father, and Welcome. They were waiting, he knew, for after - after she was in the ground and he couldn't see her ever again. He was sure most people thought he was some sort of heartless bastard for standing there perfectly still, hands clasped behind his back, and no expression. But it was the only way. He said nothing, save maybe a few words to those who mattered enough for him to care to do so.

He hadn't wanted anything to do with her at first, and looking back he found that mildly amusing. They had fought at first, demanding their engagement be called off. Fifteen was too young anyway - and even Zenas' father had agreed with that point - yet his grandmother would not budge. She'd done the same for Zara, though her potential match was some stick of a kid that had had more interest in Zenas than Zara herself.

After he and Gemma were paired in the same Squad though, they found they didn't really dislike each other. From that, they'd teased one another and Gemma would make loud and lewd jokes about their engagement. He'd joined in more often than not. And then, for a lack of anything - or anyone - better to do, they started sticking close. He'd never imagined himself with her for more than the occasional moments of intimacy they'd shared - and most of those were the product of boredom as well.

Now that she was dead, it felt less like losing a lover and more like losing an old friend. He didn't ache like he had when he'd lost Benji. It wasn't a sadness for what he'd lost. This sadness was more for the knowledge that no one would laugh at her jokes anymore. No one would smile when they saw her. She'd been a beacon to almost everyone they knew, always cheerful and so _beyond_ everyone else that Zenas knew she deserved someone better - someone whole - and he'd have never begrudged her that.

At last - long, bitter last - her casket was closed and she was lowered into the ground. For the first time, Mrs. Stonehill audibly sobbed into her husband's coat, and Zenas left them to mourn for their only daughter. He had no words for them. He might have loved Gemma one day, but that day would never come now.

His brothers and Welcome took him to a bar and he drank himself stupid, laughing at all of the memories of Gemma he and Welcome shared, including some of her dirty jokes. They drank for Xil, too, and teased him, wondering if he'd forgotten his left boot again on his way to the grave.


	4. Chapter 4: Precious & Profane, Part I

**A Note from the Authors:** Written collaboratively, and as a result styles may differ slightly. Rating is for explicit content in later chapters (graphic violence and sexual situations) - do not proceed further if you are not of the age of majority or are otherwise uncomfortable with such content.

* * *

 **Chapter 3: Precious & Profane, Part I**

As soon as the Commander had given them all instructions for rendezvous times and other pertinent information, Wil had taken the opportunity to leave the tavern in which the vast majority of them had gone for a welcome-home meal of sorts. A few of the soldiers had already dispersed to their families, but they had arrived late at night and so some would be waiting a little longer, congratulating themselves on living and decompressing. There was no reason for him, however, to stay. He pulled up his hood and drifted out with a few others, unnoticed, into the cold night air. Their laughter and friendly banter died away in another direction.

The full moon was high, and it'd make the journey to Utopia that much easier. It was a long ride from Trost - more the reason to go ahead and get going but also more the reason Wil was annoyed that the stables were a few blocks away from the tavern. He didn't have a memory for directions and at a few points stopped, embarrassed, to try to figure out which way to go. It'd snowed enough while they were inside eating to obscure the path the dozens of footsteps had left yet he peered at the ground anyway, trying to determine what was fresher snow.

Nonetheless, everything was soft, muffled, uncomplicated. It was nice to be alone again. He paused and tilted his head back to watch the clouds streak across the moon, his hood slipping off; he felt it safe to smile.

* * *

Welcome's wave dropped and soon after, so did Zenas'. He watched his friend round the corner to where he'd hitched his horse - the only one of them smart enough to do so after learning which tavern they were going to. Zenas smirked at this, then turned on his heel and headed in the direction of the stables. He made a game to himself out of trying to time his footfalls to land in a fresh set of someone else's prints, and grew amused at the erratic path they took with several stops along the way.

"Looks like this guy was drunker than I am," he chuckled. Which was saying a lot; Zenas had lost count somewhere after the eighth - damn but the Mason's Arms had strong ale - but he could at least get his limbs to move the way he wanted them to. Not this guy. After a block or two, though, three more pairs came abruptly from across the street and intercepted the pair he'd been tracing.

It was around then that Zenas heard distant but nonetheless harsh laughter, and despite himself he moved a couple of paces off the road in its direction in curiosity. Underfoot were the signs of a scuffle in the snow - haphazard stampings, a handprint, drag marks heading down the alley between two businesses shuttered for the night. Again against his better judgment, Zenas wandered toward the noise. He heard a punch land and a body hit stone.

"Oi, chin up, Ives. Wanna see your pretty face when we break it."

Zenas let out a small sigh, barely surprised. And the voice belonged to one of the vets, too - Ferris. He hesitated, his lips drawing inside his mouth and his hands pushing into the gap between harness apron and trousers.

"All bad omens gotta be ugly-looking, as a warning." Another vet - Timmon.

Another blow, followed by coughing.

He'd just have a peek. Assess the situation an' all. Probably just a bit of roughhousing that'd be over in a minute. Zenas took a few more slow, quiet steps down the alley, his heel falling first and rolling his sole onto the ground.

"Why is it, everywhere you go, everyone around you gets decimated? You're like a vulture, 'cept you show up before the corpses." Quin - not the brightest, but still another vet.

So, the usual stuff, then. The vets were probably just blowing off steam and Wil was the nearest punch-bag.

"Thought you were meant to be a medic, Ives?" More scuffling, a stifled groan, a scrape of leather against brick. "So why is it Isla… Isla could've lived. But you killed her."

"I didn't," Zenas just about heard Wil choke out. Sure enough, when he stopped at the alley opening and peered around the corner, Ferris had him pinned by the throat against the wall and he had a welt over one eye already, along with a busted lip that trickled blood onto his chin.

"You misjudged. You made a mistake," Ferris said, tipping his bald head to one side. "Seems to me that mistakes deserve punishment." He threw Wil at the ground. "Eye for an eye, an' all." He kicked him in the back, and Quin and Timmon took a turn, too.

Zenas was just starting to feel surprised that Wil wasn't managing to defend himself in any way when the kid tucked his hands against his stomach and threw himself onto his back; he lashed out with one of those pesky kicks that Zenas had very much come to hate. It landed on Timmon's chin and jolted him backwards into a pile of crates that broke under his weight. Zenas found himself chuckling and then quietened, shaking his head. He turned away, preparing to head back.

A few more blows landed. More scuffling. Timmon getting up and pieces of wood falling off him.

"Always so precious about those hands," Ferris goaded.

Zenas stopped, his mild amusement sharpening into a frown. His head turned a little, as if to make sure he'd heard right. Maybe it'd just been an observation - it was the truth, after all. Everyone knew that, even suffered it because they were indeed important, albeit maybe not as holy as Wil always treated them.

Ever more scuffling, Wil grimacing, "Get off me."

Zenas turned on his heel and returned to his spot at the corner, looking yet again at what was going on.

Timmon and Quin had Wil pinned to the cobbles on his stomach. Timmon managed to wrestle out one of the kid's arms from under his body while Quin had the other hooked behind his back. His right arm was slammed into the snow it so resembled and both were luminous in the moonlight that managed to make its way down here. Wil's face shifted from disgust to sudden panic, and Zenas located Ferris, who had procured a snow-dusted hammer from god knew where and was tapping it into his palm. Zenas felt his heartrate increase.

"Well guess what?" Ferris said, crouching beside Wil. "We're gonna smash every fucking bone in them one by one."

Wil's eyes widened - more than he'd ever seen them go even with all the horrors they'd encountered - and Zenas felt his own do the same. The kid started to struggle but it did little good. "No," was a desperate hiss escaping through his gritted teeth.

"Can't hurt anybody else then, can you? So ends the career of Doctor Death." Ferris raised the hammer.

Zenas' body moved before his mind could register it. He barrelled out of the alley and slammed into Ferris, toppling them both to the ground. With everyone's awkward positions this low down and with all the ice around, it was a crapshoot who was going to be on their feet first.

 _Maybe it's time for my luck to finally kick in,_ Zenas thought as he managed to get into a crouch.

Quin was moving first, behind him. One of Zenas' legs slid out to trip him and he stumbled past him, happily into the recovering Ferris. It gave him time to stand and turn his back to the wall for added defense. Though the small space at the back of the buildings swam and tilted a bit, the three veteran Scouts were still very clear. He didn't want to fight them but there was just something so horrendous about the idea of Wil's hands being smashed. Those stupid, confounding hands, like relics to a religion he found absurd.

Zenas balled one of his own fists and threw a punch at Ferris - it connected and the stocky guy staggered a couple of steps but didn't fall. He heard another impact of limb on body behind him and risked a glance over his shoulder, finding that Wil had managed to strike a knee into Timmon's stomach, who now lay curled in the snow whinging.

"Hey, what's this about, Zenas?" Quin held up a meaty palm.

"Oh, now you wanna talk," Zenas retorted. The anger he felt he couldn't blame completely on the alcohol and as a result, he knew it to be unreasonable but damn did it feel good.

"You seriously can't be defending that snob?" Ferris accused and spat a wad of bloodied spittle to one side. "More trouble than he's worth and you should know better than anyone. Stand aside, and let us take care of this."

It was a blur after that. Zenas and Ferris were scuffling, Quin trying to get a grip on him and being shunted off. It reminded him of the numerous squabbles with his brothers back home. Their feet, even with the grip of the soles of their boots, slipped on a few patches of ice that'd gathered near a drain. Who knew how long it went on for - he was mostly conscious of the heat they gave off through their uniforms and how weird it was to become so familiar with someone's shape under such circumstances. He'd never noticed it before. He felt outside of his body - the growls and spitting and curses were muffled as if behind a door.

Then, Ferris bore down on him from behind and managed to get him in a chokehold. Ferris was bigger, and panting, and his breath smelt of the Mason's ale.

 _Damn that's fucking good ale,_ Zenas thought.

He got a grip on Ferris, bent a little more, and threw him forward. The guy landed hard and close to Wil, who was still crouched on the ground near the winded Timmon. Instead of wondering why Wil wasn't doing anything, Zenas delighted in the look of revulsion on his face and when their eyes met, he flashed him a grin. Wil's revulsion deepened, scoring his features in satisfying ways.

That was, of course, when Quin locked his arms around him from behind, restraining his own, and lifted him back, off his feet. With a mighty heave Quin threw him to one side at the wall and just like Ferris, Zenas hit it hard, shoulder-first, and though he didn't hit his head too badly, it was enough to make him pause to let the dizziness settle.

When he looked up, Ferris was helping Timmon stand and scowling Zenas' way. "Suit yourself. But I think you're gonna regret your decision, Ronan." He turned to Quin, "Let's go." The three of them made their way carefully out of the space and down the alley, and though Zenas' first instinct was to chase them down and continue the brawl - it was pretty refreshing, if he was honest - he let them go.

He caught his breath, breathing deliberately in through his nose and out through his mouth. A few flakes of snow began to fall. He closed his eyes, sat against the wall and began laughing to himself.

"This...this is funny to you?" Wil said, quietly, but the usual bite wasn't in his voice.

Zenas' eyes opened to the sky. "Yeah, incredibly funny…" he trailed off, then his voice rose and his head snapped round to look at him, "When the fuck were you going to pitch in? You had to do hand-to-hand combat training like everyone else, huh?" His forehead nearly hurt with how low down his brow had drawn.

He sobered a little when for once, Wil didn't retort - merely drew his gangly limbs together and stared at his hands, his expression somber. It was nearly enough to make Zenas want to apologize and reminded him that he had charged in here like he was offended by Ferris' threat, like he wanted to defend Wil. Why the fuck had he bothered? It made him uncomfortable and he didn't want to think about it, so he pushed the thought to the back of his mind.

"Thank you," Wil said. There was a flash of silver on his thumb - a ring, he realized - that he'd begun twisting over and over. He didn't look at Zenas.

Zenas didn't respond to the thanks, as though it'd be acknowledging they were on equal footing, now, or that anything had changed between them. He griped a bit as he got to his feet and dusted snow off himself. Yet again, still the kid was sitting there in the snow as if it were just a bed. And he kept twisting his ring with the far-off look on his face.

"What's with the ring?" Zenas asked, mostly as a way to draw him back into the real world.

Wil answered distantly, as though reading out of a textbook, "My sister gave it to me."

Zenas didn't think Wil had ever mentioned having a sister. Mentioned his parents, of course, but only in the context of their titles and influence and prestige and all that other crap - they didn't even seem like his family after a while and he'd unintentionally settled on this idea of Wil not being someone's son or brother, like he'd just been built in someone's basement or jumped out of a book. He even felt a little guilty about that, now.

"Doesn't matter," Wil mumbled and folded his hands away into his stomach as he liked to do.

Though he felt awkward saying it, Zenas disagreed, "Sure it does. What is it, a graduation present or something?"

Wil shrugged. "Just a reminder, that's all."

"Of what?"

Wil cut him a glare that made his pale eyes burn. "What do you care?"

Zenas reeled a little and resisted laughing. Instead he held his arms out to indicate the mottled snow and other evidence of the scuffle that'd occurred.

Wil seemed to catch his meaning and his shoulders slumped again. He looked away at the dark outline of where the hammer Ferris had nearly used had lain. The entire encounter had shaken him more than that with any Titan, he realized, and this was something he still had trouble accepting.

Zenas sighed. "Come on, get up. The ground's cold, dumbass." He walked over to him and held out his hand begrudgingly. After a moment, Wil took it, and the oddly warm brush of the silver ring against his own fingers seemed to linger long after he let go.

Wil didn't bother to brush himself off - Zenas made a note to himself to add 'frost sprite' to his list of nicknames for him - he took a few steps toward the mouth of the alley. "I should get my horse."

Zenas shrugged to himself. "Me too."

They walked in silence down the alley, paused at the other end to check for any sign of Ferris and the others, and then resumed their original trek to the stables. The snow was coming down more thickly now but neither of them pulled up their hoods.

"It reminds me - the ring reminds me - of those who have faith in me."

Zenas didn't want to discourage this rare opening-up, like not letting dirt or sweat get in a wound, by speaking. But he couldn't help but sympathize with the statement. The sting on his thigh reminded him of that. He had his own people, too.


	5. Chapter 5: Precious & Profane, Part II

**A Note from the Authors:** Written collaboratively, and as a result styles may differ slightly. Rating is for explicit content in later chapters (graphic violence and sexual situations) - do not proceed further if you are not of the age of majority or are otherwise uncomfortable with such content.

* * *

 **Chapter 3: Precious and Profane, Part II**

Wil barely noticed when Zenas had split off from him in Mitras, though he doubted he would have said a goodbye. They'd ridden in silence all the way from Trost, back to being closed off from each other, and the canter had slowed to a trot as soon as they were in the capitol - he heard a slight deviation of Zenas' horse, Zara, but couldn't find the energy to look behind him to see why until a few minutes later.

He could just about make out Zenas' silhouette meeting another two men on horseback on a bridge. By the way they greeted each other loudly despite the inhuman hour, slapping each other on the back and laughing and punching each other in the arm, Wil assumed they were at least friends if not some of his brothers. Part of him balked at the idea of there being yet more Ronans but his heart wasn't in his usual spite tonight.

He paused his horse and watched them for a moment more. Fawn had only been able to get away once or twice to greet him like that whenever he visited home and in the process, give him that warm greeting he craved. Home, family...they were sustenance for him but in reality, more and more lately offered a rather meager meal. Zenas and whoever these shadows were - there was a richness to it that he couldn't help but envy. He jabbed his heels into Comet's flanks and bitterly drove them on.

* * *

It was extremely early in the morning by the time Wil made it to his home in Utopia, a two-floored, satisfyingly symmetrical house with two additional wings fenced off by iron railings and carved stone posts; the gate stood forever open and he passed under the wrought arch that read "Ives' Infirmary". The well-manicured lawns, ornamental urns and pea gravel were frosty and the snow continued to fall, hushing everything and amplifying the glow from a few of the lit windows in the wings, which were used as comfortable hospices for those with long-term illnesses. The main house, however, where his family occupied the top floor, was mostly dark except for the gaslights either side of the double doors of the main entrance.

Wil was numb, and tired, and the relief he felt at being home was minimal. No doubt his parents and even the servants were asleep by now - despite the former's atypical schedules - and even though Fawn no doubt had heard the Scouting Legion had returned, she wasn't likely to be home. But then, he supposed it was for the best that he wouldn't see anyone until daytime. The encounter with the angry veterans, the threat to his hands, Zenas emerging to save him...it was taking longer than expected to recover from it. It'd been months since he'd seen his family and he wanted to appear unmoved, incorruptible, strong.

He took the left loop of the drive that encircled the house and followed it around to the stables tucked beneath the ancient, tall firs. After tending to Comet he trudged across the lawn toward the formal garden pressed against the back door of the house, but paused in the middle to look back at his footprints. He didn't know why, but it made him sad, and the longer he lingered the more the snow rushed to cover his tracks and the sadder he grew.

As expected, the house was dark inside, too, with only the minimum of an oil lamp turned down low in the main stone hall that linked back door to front, on a small buffet just outside the closed door to the servants' quarters in the basement. The mahogany paneling and ceiling beams were even darker and made the normally wide and warm space seem closer and colder, the pale sage green of the paint now a lifeless gray. Wil passed under the gaze of the portraits that hung either side of the hall and did not raise his eyes to them. The stairs were on his left, carpeted, and he dragged himself up them, leaning on the wall rather than the rail. The carpet must have been cleaned recently - the scent of cloves tickled his nose.

The top of the stairs broke out immediately onto a window-lined hall, with the windows overlooking the garden at the back of the house and the rooms opposite them - to his right, the bedrooms belonging to him and his sister and their bathrooms; to his left, the master suite belonging to his parents and including their study; and slightly behind him past the banister-encased stairwell, situated at the front of the house, the Ives' family's private library and sitting room. No light came from beneath his parents' door, nor from Fawn's, and he wandered to the very end of the right-hand hall.

His room had originally been Fawn's, the both of them coveting the windows that the other room lacked, but she had gifted it to him when she left for training some eight years before he would. It was hard to believe that it'd been that long ago that he'd had the paint changed from her buttery yellow to a calming gray-blue, switched out her vanity and replaced it with a desk and chair, swapped her gossamer-light floral lilac drapes for heavier plum-colored brocade. He liked the richly-pattern rug underfoot, though, and she let him keep it.

Wil closed the door softly behind him and sighed. The fireplace on the same wall as the door was cold and dark, as were his lamps. The large canopied bed was to the left, flanked by two of the windows, while his desk was directly in front of him and the dresser and bookcases to the right. Between the dresser and the bookcases was the door to his bathroom. He wasn't sure what he was feeling, and everything called to him as a result - fall in bed? Read, study or write? Bathe?

As with most times of indecision, logic prevailed - he did not want to dirty his sheets, and it was too much effort to make light. _Bathing it is, then,_ he decided.

While the bath ran, he methodically rid himself of his boots; harness piece by piece, the buckles tapping on the white marble floor; and sweat- and dirt-starched uniform. He left them where they lay around his feet and stood dumbly in the cacophony created by the running water bouncing around the intricately-plastered room, lit only by the weak amount of moonlight trickling in through the open door. He dipped a hand into the tub to determine the water's depth, and then turned it off. He struggled with the hairband that tied up his hair, his fingernails snagging in the knots and pulling frantically. His eyes stung but he blinked the feeling rapidly away.

It was only when Wil sank into the warm water that he realized how cold his body had grown. He leaned back, and after the rest of him had adjusted he sank completely under the surface, remembering how much he enjoyed the sensation. He carefully opened his eyes and stared through the gentle waves to the dark ceiling - really, there was no light or color or texture to look at, as if he was growing blind. But there was something calming in that. He wanted to stay under here as long as he could but forced himself to break the surface, and breathe. He rose into a sitting position, leaning forward, listening to the plinks of water dripping off the strands of his loose hair.

 _This is a lonely business,_ he thought, but wasn't sure why he thought it.

His ring clinked against the porcelain as he reached for the soap and though he grabbed it, he did not retract his arm.

 _"Always so precious about those hands,"_ he remembered Ferris saying. _"...the career of Doctor Death."_

His eyes were stinging again. He remembered the hammer, how close it'd come to his knuckles. He wouldn't have been able to use them ever again. Everything he worked for would have come to nought, and he...he would have been nothing. And the worst of it - maybe they would have been right to end him like that. Maybe he did cause others to die instead of helping them live against all odds. Maybe he was a bad omen. No one would have cared if…

Wil sobbed, as if the warm water had finally thawed the ice that'd been inside him and it was coming out in tears and ugly, stifled whines. He held his head in his hands and the smell of the soap faded as his sinuses clogged up. His entire body shook and eventually this took away most of his energy; he hung onto the side of the tub and continued to cry out everything that had been pent up the past year - all the death, the frustration, the homesickness, the self-doubt, the anger, the feelings of uselessness and failure, the hurt from all the jibes, the demonizing, the constant attempted fracturing of his pride, the self-hate, the confusion and the hopelessness of it all, the struggle to hide these weaknesses to anyone who might be looking, if anyone was really looking…

But...Zenas had looked. Even if it was only a glimpse, he had looked. Who knew why.

Wil's sobbing subsided. "Of all people," he muttered to the water, and sighed again. The pain in his chest was burning out, but it lingered enough for Wil to begin to imagine why it was that Zenas cut into his thighs - perhaps it was a quicker way to find release from this sort of agony - though he could never imagine doing it to himself.

With difficulty, Wil found an inner reserve of energy and picked up the soap, washing himself equally methodically from the crown down. He yawned a few times; his limbs felt heavy and sore.

The sound of his door squeaking open made him pause. "Pst! Wil?" He relaxed, even felt a little better, at the sound of Fawn's voice. It was a happy surprise.

"I'm bathing - be right out," he called softly. He put down the soap and started to rinse off. "What are you doing up? Did I wake you? I didn't expect you home." He pulled at the plug and the gurgle of the tub emptying began, followed by the slosh of him standing.

"I thought I heard you run some water! I was half-awake anyhow," she assured him. "Gave me time to run down to the kitchen." He heard his door close. After drying, he pulled some pajamas out of the closet attached to the bathroom and dressed himself, and hurried out to see his sister.

Fawn looked nothing like him or their parents - rather, she took after their paternal grandmother, with her bountiful red ringlets and freckled, honey-colored skin, her large frame. She grinned a gap-toothed smile at him and the long sleeve of her nightgown waved as she held out a plate to him.

Wil stopped short, and almost cried again. His eyebrows rose and he smiled gratefully at her. "You made me jam sandwiches."

She held up a finger. "Made us sandwiches, but yes," she smirked, and it deepened the early crow's-feet around her bright hazel eyes. "Welcome home," she added more softly.

Wil bypassed the sandwiches and was taken readily into Fawn's soft, warm embrace. She giggled a little and hugged him tight in her strong arms, nearly squeezing the life out of him, but it was a good, long-missed feeling that went some way to filling the hole that'd opened in his gullet. He could practically feel the joy in her seeping over into his own body, helping him forget the sorrows of a few minutes ago.

"You must be pretty saddle-sore," she said, and the rich timber of her voice reverberated through his comparably rickety body. "Let's sit."

As they had done so many times as children, they moved to sit cross-legged on his bed, next to and leaning against each other, the plate on their laps, and he took a bite out of one of the soft squares. The tartness of the blackberry jam exploding on his tongue was the taste of love.

* * *

When Wil woke the sun was blazing through the windows and he regretted not drawing the curtains the night before. Beside him, Fawn lay on her back which caused her to snore. A smudge of jam was at the corner of her mouth. Wil pushed himself upright and rubbed at his eyes, then found the empty plate he'd half-lain on and pushed it farther out of the way towards the foot of the bed over his plum-colored duvet.

The clock on his mantle chimed Nine a.m., and though he really wanted to take the opportunity to sleep some more, he knew he should probably meet his parents for breakfast - well, their second, his first and only - before they resumed their workday.

"Hey. Fawn," he reached over and shook her shoulder and she snorted awake, her ringlets and the ruffles on her nightgown quivering. "We should go get breakfast."

"Oh, hello," she cleared her throat, rising. "I didn't even realize I'd fallen asleep. Yeah, breakfast." She glanced at the clock.

Noting this, he asked, "You don't have to go back just yet, do you?"

She waved a hand and got off the bed. "Nah. Tomorrow. Couldn't miss you coming home this go round - they owed me." Her footsteps were heavy as she trudged to the door and the nightgown waved around her ankles. "See you in a few; we can go down together if you like," she offered through a yawn. "I got in late myself last night and haven't seen them yet either - I can talk for both of us."

She knew he could use the buffer, and he smiled at this. "Okay. Meet you in the hall."

Wil went to his closet and pulled out one of the many blue V-neck pullovers he owned, along with a white button-up and dark green slacks. He dressed quickly, the old childhood feelings of urgency of wanting to catch up with Fawn and ride her coattails wherever she went manifesting as muscle-memory. He did, however, take the time to brush his teeth, and comb his hair even if he didn't shove it into his usual topknot.

He only had to wait for a minute or two in the hall before Fawn emerged too, clad in brown tweed wide-legged slacks and a matching tailored waistcoat over a dusty pink long-sleeved blouse with copious ruffles. She shoved her bright hair up in a sloppy bun. "Come on, then," she smiled and jerked her chin. "I'm starving."

"You're always hungry," Wil remembered. "Surely you can't grow any more?" She already stood at an impressive six foot one - an inch taller than him - and was nearly twice his girth besides, all muscle.

"Nah, think I'm done."

They descended the stairs, the crystals of the chandelier above them casting shards of rainbows at their feet. Second breakfast - the main breakfast - was always served downstairs in the main dining room so that his parents could continue to work and see their staff if necessary, or spread the bounty to others. Wil hoped there weren't guests this morning - he wasn't in the mood to deal with formalities. At the bottom of the stairs they crossed the bright hall and Fawn opened one of the double doors for them, waltzing happily inside with a "Mornin'!" Wil followed in her wake and shut the door behind them.

"Oh, there you are," their father grunted in a happy sort of way, finished the sentence he was reading in his newspaper and folded it to put it aside. "We were wondering about you."

The oval, white-clothed table dominated the back half of the pale gold dining room, generously spread with crockery laden with fruit, breakfast meats, eggs and breads around which were spread loose papers, rosters, and pencils. The coffee pot stood proudly where the spring's first bouquet of flowers would sit in a few months. His parents stood up from their spots at one end to greet them and Wil did his best to smile back at them, feel the same comfort in all this.

His mother reached him first, gathering him into her embrace not unlike Fawn but far more gracefully and with far less height. She pecked his cheek and her blue eyes sparkled. "I'm glad you're home, William," she said, and when a pencil fell out of her bouffant of silvering black hair he picked it up for her.

"Me too," he said.

"You've lost weight," she took her pencil from him and poked his arm with it, then gestured at the table. "Come eat, before your sister gets it all." She moved back to her seat, tucking her calf-length wool skirt under her as she sat down.

Wil and the regal six foot three height of his father embraced more briefly, slapping each other's backs the way tradition demanded, and they moved to their chairs. Fawn had already sat down and was loading up her plate and his. Wil hesitated before sitting - whatever it was that was different about this homecoming, it tinted almost everything. How odd it was that they treated him as though he was merely living somewhere else, like Fawn. Like he hadn't seen things. But then, he supposed, talking about it would open doors for judgement, more expectations. He sat, and put his napkin in his lap. He hoped he could either play along or that Fawn would be a suitable distraction.

"What's in the paper shuffle today?" Fawn asked, nodding at the papers as she passed Wil his plate.

Their mother closed a slim canvas-bound book of accounts and pushed it to one side in favor of her bowl of steaming oatmeal, into which she poured cream. "We're thinking of expanding the Kuchlich House down the road. Want to see if it's possible." She passed the creamer to Wil.

"Despite the Titans, life expectancy is longer and the young who would take care of their elderly are dying faster. More places to care for them are needed," their father said, taking up his newspaper again and sipping his coffee. The steam from his cup disturbed the whitening blond of his hair a little. He set his cup back on its saucer with a chink. "Speaking of - how did the expedition go, William? I'm glad to see you all in one piece." The smile he gave him was a genuine one, Wil knew, but somehow it didn't manage to reach across the table.

"Nothing beyond the normal," Wil said, taking up his knife and fork to see to his ham. Before he could stop himself, he said, "Right now I seem to be the only medic they have left."

"Hm, well, bad news for the Legion but good for you, eh?" his father said wryly. "Making quite the name for yourself, I'm sure."

Wil's heart sank. Not the name you wanted me to make, he thought, and took a bite of the ham. He barely tasted it, and poured himself some coffee instead and averted his eyes. Suddenly none of the food Fawn had given him seemed appetizing.

"So!" Fawn, opposite him and next to their father, chimed into the pause. "Any cute girls join up recently - that are, y'know," Wil caught her eye, glimmering with mischief and making them more green than usual, "still alive? I hope you told them all about me." She winked and sat back in her chair, toying with the grapes in her fruit cup with her fork.

His father groaned and turned the page of his newspaper. "If you're trying to get a rise out of me, Fawn, I love you dearly but it's not going to work."

"Isn't it? Oh," Fawn said mock-innocently.

"I've told you before on a few occasions that I really don't give a shit about what either of you do with your genitalia as long as you're safe in all senses of the word," he looked at the ceiling and shrugged helplessly, "though I can't say I see any point to the whole business if you're not passing on my genes."

"Oh, Erik," his mother chided and stole a forgotten hashbrown off his plate. "Language."

"Apologies, darling," he reached across and patted her hand, and stole half of the hashbrown back.

"Ignore the old people," Fawn waved her fork and sat forward again, "So are there? I'm getting bored. I see the same ones every day."

"I was a little busy for that, Fawn," Wil replied. "But next time I see one I'll put in a good word, if I remember."

"You're a gem. I suppose fellas would do, too."

Wil had a sudden amusing thought of introducing Fawn to Zenas purely for the chaos that would ensue, but decided against it. He didn't want him anywhere near his sister, no matter if she could handle herself - and him at the same time - if she needed to. To be fair he also didn't want the guy anywhere near his house but, he reflected with an uncomfortable curdling of the oatmeal settling in his stomach, it wasn't because he wanted to keep his home and family safe from Zenas, but rather, he wanted to keep Zenas safe from them. Why was unclear and he pushed the thought away.


	6. Chapter 6: Zenas & Family - Part I

**A Note from the Authors:** Written collaboratively, and as a result styles may differ slightly. Rating is for explicit content in later chapters (graphic violence and sexual situations) - do not proceed further if you are not of the age of majority or are otherwise uncomfortable with such content.

* * *

Despite the late hour and being wet from the snow he'd so recently rolled around in, Zach and Zane met up with him on the bridge that crossed into the residential section of Mitras. They dismounted for quick one-armed hugs and a few light punches.

"What did you do, pick a fight on your way here?" Zach grinned at him as he poked a scrap if Zenas' exposed skin. He didn't remember ripping his shirt.

"Yeah." Zenas shrugged. "Gotta make sure I can still take the two of you down."

Zane and Zach both laughed. "Good luck with that." Zane clapped him on his shoulder. "Come on, mom's forced everyone to wait until you got home before we can go to bed."

Zenas sighed but nodded. They climbed into their saddles and galloped for the sprawling estate. The trees that lined the property were perfectly manicured evergreens. With the light dusting of snow, they glistened in the pale moonlight. He couldn't count how many times he'd dreamed of those trees. He and Zara used to run through them playing tag.

"How's everyone?" Zenas glanced to Zach first. Of there was something wrong, Zach's face always betrayed him. He smiled, but it was laced with sadness.

"Mom's sick again." Zane provided the answer, as always. He was forever being chastised for being too blunt and direct. Navigating the upper tiers of the social world required a certain affinity for charm and subtlety that the younger boy just didn't possess. "Don't ask her about it though. She'll just yell at you."

Zenas shook his head. That sounded like his mother. She was forever putting off her own illness for the sake of others. She claimed her will to live was too strong for any sickness to claim her. "Has she seen a doctor at least?"

"Yeah, some Ives woman," Zane answered. Zenas frowned. Wil's mother was caring for his own? "Anyway, how've you been holding up?"

"I'm not dead yet." That comment earned a round of laughter from Zane and Zach. "Micha's still dead set on joining, huh?"

Zach sighed a little. "I keep telling the little brat to just join the MPs, but he doesn't listen. Says if he's good enough to join the MPs then he's damn good enough for the Corps."

"I'll talk to him." He knew that was the response his brothers wanted. They were both in the Military Police Brigade. He almost envied them for their easy choices, but knew he'd have never been able to deal with his older siblings. "Who all is here?"

"Dad's in the city for some stupid merchant's meeting." Zane led them through the wrought iron gate that separated their yard from those surrounding the estate. "Micha's here on a short break. I think he leaves tomorrow, though. Then it's just Zig and Zag and us."

"Zahir will be here in the morning." Zach leveled a sideways glance at Zenas.

"Fuck." Zenas' shoulders fell. Zahir was the oldest of the lot. Thirty years old and right-hand to Commander Nile. He was loyal to the MPs and the MPs alone, and with that loyalty came a deeply-ingrained hatred of the Survey Corps. "Tell him to keep his fucking mouth shut in front of mom."

"Already done," Zane said with a shrug. "I spoke to him a few days ago. He's agreed to keep the peace for her sake. He's furious about Micha, though."

There was a long stretch of silence as they trotted down the gravel path that led to the front door. He was happier taking care of his horse on his own, but the moment he dismounted by the front steps, a groomer raced forward to take her away. He hesitated by the door for a moment, watching her nose at the grass for a moment while the boy tried to get her to move along. He wanted to shout after the boy to take good care of her, but he knew the stablemaster well enough to shove the urge aside. Zara was a treasure and would be treated as such.

The foyer was dimly lit, but there were a flock of maids waiting just inside with towels. He took one and draped it over his shoulders, but didn't bother to get the snow off of the rest of himself. It could wait. They moved for the less formal sitting room at the end of the hall. Zane pushed open the door. Zig and Zag, the youngest and identical twins, greeted him first. He gave them kind smiles and draped one arm around each of their shoulders for a short moment. Micha came next, but he just mussed the kid's hair and laughed at his annoyed expression.

His mother was seated, though he could tell she wanted nothing more than to jump up and run across the room to embrace him. He bent over the small chair and hugged her. She pressed her lips to the small scar on his temple by his right eye. When he knelt beside her, she ran her fingers through his hair fondly.

"You should have Talla cut your hair since you're here. It's so long." He gave her a small smile. As a kid, he'd always taken his mother's criticisms to heart. He hadn't understood that it was her unique way of expressing concern for him. Her hand grazed over his cheek. "And you're so thin!"

"We were gone for ten days," Zenas muttered into her palm. She understood his implied meaning. Her hand returned to her lap and he stood, crossing the plush carpet to relax into one of the sofas. Micha flopped down beside him. Zig and Zag were on the floor in front of the table, resuming their chess game. Zane and Zach stood by the fire. "Zaim with Dad?"

"Yes, of course," she said, a little exasperated. "He's so eager to take over… Well, I'll tell you, you're father has a good many years left on him and he won't sit by and retire so easily."

Zenas gave a little chuckle. "Of course not." He stretched out his legs in front of himself, slowly becoming aware of the pains that would show bruises tomorrow. "You look exhausted, Mom. I'll be here for a couple of days. Why not go to bed?" As if on cue, one of her pale hands came to her mouth to stifle a tiny yawn. Her bright green eyes flashed at him.

"Very well, but I expect you all for breakfast!" She lifted a tiny bell from the table beside her and rang it twice. "We'll speak more tomorrow." His mother's maid entered, gave a tiny curtsey, then stepped behind his mother's chair and began to push her out of the room. Zenas stopped her long enough to kiss his mother's hand, then watched her vanish into the long corridor.

He rounded on Zane. "You didn't tell me she was in the fucking chair again!" Zane just shrugged and plucked a cigarette from the silver case in his hand. Zenas ran one hand through his hair angrily as he relaxed back into the couch. "Micha, go to the kitchen and get me a drink."

"That's what we've got maids for," Micha argued. Zenas glared over at him. The kid scoffed and stood. "I'm not a kid anymore, stupid. I'll graduate soon."

"Shut up and do as you're told," Zig and Zag chimed. They grinned at each other for a moment, mirror images. Zenas knew most people could never tell them apart, but there were subtle details that many people missed. It was more in the way that they presented themselves than in any physical difference, but Zenas always knew which was which.

The conversation waited until Micha slammed the door behind himself. "That Ives woman thinks she might have a year left at best." Zach was staring into the fire with his arms crossed over his chest. His broad frame that so resembled Zenas' own looked much smaller as his shoulders hunched forward.

"We're don't leave her side," Zig and Zag stated. Zag moved his queen to checkmate Zig. Zag countered with his knight. The stupid nicknames had come about when they were very small. Back then, they'd been total opposites in everything they did. About the time of Zara's death, they became two halves of the same whole. He was glad they'd avoided the military. Splitting those two up would destroy them.

"There's nothing we can do for her," Zane muttered, ashing his cigarette in the fireplace. "Just come back to see her as often as you can, alright? You're the only one who stays away for so long."

Zenas gritted his teeth. "Yeah, I'll make it a point. If you'd _told_ me, I'd have come sooner." His anger was boiling up at Zane. He was just two years younger than Zenas, but he acted more like Zahir. Zach, on the other hand, was almost a perfect replica of Zenas himself when he was younger - before he'd lost Zara.

The door opened and Micha entered with a maid behind him. She had a tray with a bottle of liquor - not ale, as Zenas had expected - and a collection of small cups. She poured one for each person in the room, including Micha, though he almost choked on the drink. Zenas dismissed the maid with a wave of his hand. She gave a half bow and retreated from the room.

The bottle was smooth glass, labeled in fine paper with four lines of script indicating the brand, bottle date, and location it was made. He refilled his glass, sipping at the amber liquid rather than downing it in a single shot as he had the first. The others were still nursing their first glasses as he poured himself a third.

"Do you drink like that all the time?" Micha asked, making a sour face. The kid's father had drunk himself into a stupor after Zayna, Micha's mother and Zenas' oldest sister, died. Micha always associated anyone who had more than two glasses of whatever choice of drink they had with his father.

Zenas sighed and rested the glass on his knee. "I was out there for ten days, kid. Killing Titans might seem glorious to you, but it's messy. I watched two kids just a little older than you die right in front of me on the very first day. You tell me you wouldn't want to get shit faced after living through that hell and then I'll quit drinking."

Micha said nothing, just gaped at him for a moment. When he recovered himself, he stared down into his glass, swirling the amber liquid around in lazy circles. The color reminded Zenas of Petra's hair, so he looked away.

"It's late," Zach muttered, dropping his arms. "I'm going to bed. I'll see you in the morning." He stalked from the room.

The twins finished their game and stood, stretching. "We're off to bed too." Every word was said in perfect harmony. There were times when it drove his other brothers crazy, but Zenas remembered when he and Zara had done the same to pester their father. It really didn't take much effort, and he and Zara had never even practiced. They didn't plan those conversations, either, they just happened. It was one part of having a twin that none of the others understood. The twins had pestered him for a long time after Zara's death. If anyone could process what it was like to lose half of themselves, it was the twins, simply because they knew what it was like to exist as two people in the first place.

"I'm not changing my mind," Micha sated, leaving his glass on the table by the chessboard. "You can tell me whatever you want, but this is something I want to do…"

"Make sure you can stay alive, then," Zenas muttered. "I won't be there to save you."

Micha said nothing, just followed the twins out into the hall. He and Zane were the only two left. Zenas stood and moved to the fireplace, his drink still in his hand. He snatched up Zane's cigarette case and stole one.

"What's your problem?" Zenas asked, sucking in the first draw from the pilfered cigarette. "I don't have to be your favorite person, but you had no right to keep this from me…"

Zane's eyes narrowed as he looked down the mantle at Zenas. "I was hoping it would shock you into deciding to stay. Just until…"

"No." Zenas took only one more drag from the cigarette before tossing it into the fire. He didn't like it as much as he had when he was younger. "I'm not staying." He moved away from the mantle and grabbed the bottle of liquor on his way to the door.

"Why not?" Zane almost shouted. "Mom's fucking _dying_ , Zenas!"

"Lower your voice." Zenas looked over his shoulder, all too aware of the dark expression he wore. "Maybe I'll explain it to you one day." He knew himself too well. If he was present to watch his mother decay further, he'd go insane. He couldn't handle it. Being away from everything was his only choice. No matter how badly he wanted to be by his mother's side, his behavior would reflect badly on the family, and that was unacceptable.

He retreated to his old room. It was on the third floor, a corner room with two massive windows. He and Zara had shared the room as children, much like Zig and Zag shared their rooms even now. Being apart from his twin was equivalent to severing half of his body and expecting him to keep living. When she'd died, he'd collapsed into ruin. His mother had brought him back from it, though it hadn't been easy.

As he climbed up the last flight of stairs, he heard a soft humming. The tune was simple, an old song his sister had favored. Icy spikes lanced his chest, slowing his steps. Whenever Zahir or Zaim were particularly nasty to him as a small child and he'd cry, Zara had always cheered him up by singing the same song he heard now.

There was a girl in the hall, on her knees and brushing out the carpet. She glanced up at him when she heard his soft footsteps, and the humming stopped. "Please forgive me." She bowed her head low and stopped moving.

"Any other song is fine," Zenas muttered, "just not that one." He passed her by and found the door to his room. It had been prepared for his visit. The wood-burning stove in the corner was still blazing, filling the room with warmth. There were only three or four candles still burning. He prepared his own bath, filling the tub with water and sinking into it, submerging his entire body for as long as he could hold his breath.

He didn't spend much time bathing, but did relax in the hot water for a while. The bottle of liquor was nearly half gone when he finished. He was unsteady on his feet as he climbed out, almost slipping more than once. He toweled off quickly before finding his bed. He didn't bother with clothes. The marks in his thigh for Gemma and Xil still weren't quite healed, but they had scabbed up. The silk sheets he slipped between were soft on his skin. Soft feather pillows and a deep mattress cradled him as he relaxed into sleep.

* * *

He'd missed breakfast, but made it in time for lunch. The slim khakis and green shirt he usually wore were loose, though they'd been tailored to fit him perfectly the last time he'd been home. He'd added his black belt and rolled up the sleeves. Two days of good food and some time to relax before the next expedition would get him back to the same size as before.

"Look who finally decided to get up," Zach teased as he made his way into the parlor. He ignored the jab and quietly asked for coffee. As Zach sat across from him at the little table in the corner of the room he added in a whisper, "Zahir's already pissed with you."

"When _isn't_ he?" Zenas countered. A footman brought him a pot of coffee, but before he could pour it into the cup, Zenas waved him away. He could do that much himself. He added more sugar than necessary before his first sip. "That prick -"

Zach's sudden look of panic made him close his mouth and take another sip of coffee. He could see Zahir's reflection in the window. "I see you've finally seen fit to join us."

Zenas sat his cup on the saucer a little too hard before turning to address Zahir. "I see you still haven't pulled your head out of your ass." The smart remark earned him a sharp blow to the cheek, but he just smirked. It was always worth it to see that flash of anger in Zahir's cold eyes.

"Such insolence…" Zahir glowered down at him. "I suppose that's to be expected from the Survey Corps, accepting ruffians from the underground city as they are wont to do these days."

Zenas rolled his eyes. That had been years ago; it hardly mattered anymore. "Do you have a purpose here, or were you just going to play at insults for the afternoon?"

Zahir clenched his fists for a quick second before he regained his perfect composure. "I'd like to discuss a few matters with you in private."

"No." Telling his older brother no was always enjoyable. Zenas cracked another smirk, then turned back to face Zach. He grabbed the cup and sipped at his coffee. "The answer to all of your requests is no. You knew that before you came here."

"Your selfishness never ceases to amaze me." Zahir took a step to the side, standing to Zenas' right. "My request is for Mother: stay here. Stop this foolish nonsense with the Survey Corps. Losing another child would destroy her."

Zenas' hand tightened around the cup in his hand. Zach was looking over at him expectantly, as if he too were hoping for Zenas to agree. There was a long moment of tense silence between them. Zahir gave a small, annoyed sigh before stepping away.

"I can't do that." Zenas muttered at long last.

Zahir stopped in his tracks. "Why?"

"Don't ask stupid questions." Zenas stood. He moved around Zahir, as he had his entire life, and headed for the door.

"You say you 'can't', but what you mean is 'won't'." Zahir's voice carried through the room, attracting everyone's attention. Zenas was glad his mother wasn't there yet. "Are you really so eager for death?"

Zenas rested his hand on the knob that led back into the hall. He looked over his shoulder, catching the gazes from each of his brothers and his nephew. "Part of me is already dead. The Survey Corps is all I know. Don't ask me to sacrifice what's important to me." He turned his head back to the door and wrenched it open, ready to stomp away.

His mother was sitting in her chair just on the other side of the door. The maid was beside her, as if she'd made to open the door but had been stopped. "I will never, ever ask you to make a sacrifice like that. No one should ask that of you." Her bright green eyes shimmered with tears.

Zenas wanted to sink into the floor and never emerge. His entire body flushed with embarrassment even as his chest froze over with guilt. "Mom…"

Her hand stretched out and caught his clenched fist. He forced himself to relax it. "Just come back for dinner, okay? Your father and Ziam will be home." All he could do was nod. The maid backed up the chair just enough for Zenas to slip out of the room. He almost ran to the coat closet, digging out his old wool peacoat, his scarf, and his gloves. The soft shoes he wore would be ruined by the snow, but he didn't care. His goal was escape - if only for a few hours.

* * *

When he finally made his way back to the house, Zahir stopped him before he could get to the stairs. They were alone for the moment, the main hall folding out around them.

"If you're going to insist on staying in the Survey Corps, then I'm going to insist to you not returning home." Zahir gripped the top of his arm as he tried to ignore him and brush passed him.

"And that's going to make things better for Mom?" Zenas asked.

"It will make her suffer less when you show up looking like a half-dead sewer rat," Zahir hissed.

Zenas snatched his arm free of Zahir's grip. "Fuck you." He trudged up the stairs before Zahir could stop him a second time.


	7. Chapter 7: Zenas & Family - Part II

**A Note from the Authors:** Written collaboratively, and as a result styles may differ slightly. Rating is for explicit content in later chapters (graphic violence and sexual situations) - do not proceed further if you are not of the age of majority or are otherwise uncomfortable with such content.

* * *

Dinner was a mad affair. The twins were mocking Zenas mercilessly about his earlier defeat to them in a chess match. His father was trying to have a civilized conversation with Zahir, but every few words were interrupted by shouts to Zach or Zane to stop playing with their food or to Micha to lower his voice. Glancing around the table, Zenas would never have guessed at their ages. He was full of rich red wine, floating through the night in a half-drunken stupor to keep himself from breaking into pieces again.

"Boys, boys!" His mother shouted across the table, earning complete silence for her efforts. "I wanted you all to know that we will be hosting the Winter Ball a little late this year. Zenas will be unable to attend, but I expect the rest of you to be here! Zahir, I haven't seen your wife in entirely too long. Bring her. Zach, that girlfriend of yours better be here too! Zane, just bring _someone_ , since you never seem to be able to make up your mind." There was a round of snickers from the twins, Zach, and Micha. "Zig and Zag have friends that have already been invited. Micha dear, I don't believe you'll be able to make it either, but if something changes, be sure to write and let me know."

Everyone nodded their agreement. Dessert was presented in glorious platters that Zenas had helped to decorate himself. He snagged a few macaroons but avoided the rest. He was stuffed to bursting from the roasted quail and sauteed vegetables. His glass of wine was filled once again.

"Hey, these are better than they usually are," Zig mentioned as he popped a tiny macaroon into his mouth. Zag hummed his agreement as he chewed.

"Zenas made them," his mother said, beaming with pride. "You should make some sweets to take back with you! We can work on it tomorrow morning." Zenas nodded once. He was reluctant to take anything of this sort back to headquarters, but Welcome and Petra would enjoy the treat. Any chance to spend a moment alone with his mother was a gift in and of itself.

He was itching to direct the conversation away from himself. "What happened to that guy you brought home last time, Zane?" Zane flushed red and stared into his wine glass. The twins laughed along with Zach. Zenas and Zach might have been similar in nearly every way, but Zane was the only one who shared Zenas' tastes for both sexes.

"We heard that he was _dumped_." The twins mocked together.

Zane's face screwed into an expression of annoyance. "No, I found him eating some chick's face."

"Even worse," Zig taunted.

"Given over for a _girl_ ," Zag added, sticking out his tongue.

"How tragic." Zach's comment piled onto the others. Zenas couldn't suppress a chuckle as Zane sank into his chair.

"At least your lovers live long enough to leave you." Zahir's comment was scathing and icy, directed right at Zenas.

"Watch yourself," their father warned with a sharp edge to his tone. "My brother was in the Survey Corps. This family has supported the Corps for generations, and I will _not_ tolerate your continued badgering." Zahir tossed his napkin on the table and stood. "Have the carriage returned once you reach headquarters. Good night."

Zahir stalked out of the room without another word. Zig and Zag stifled their laughter behind their napkins. Zane drained his cup and Zach relaxed back in his chair. Zenas sighed heavily. He'd been the cause for the rift in his family since he was thirteen. His mother was the neutral entity, fighting to keep the peace between everyone. Regardless of what he'd done, she'd wrap her arms around him and tell him it was okay. She'd protected him from as much of the world as she could until he'd lost Zara, then he'd graduated and went to the Survey Corps.

"Where's Zeno been lately?" Zenas asked. He stood with the others as they prepared to move to the parlor. His father would switch to scotch and smoke a cigar. His mother would have brandy. Zenas wondered about the whisky from the night before, but didn't bother asking for it. He'd stick to wine. Zane offered him a cigarette. He accepted, if only for something to do. The twins settled down for another game of chess. Zach settled himself in a plush armchair across from their mother.

"Oh, somewhere in Utopia I imagine," his father said with a dismissing wave of his hand. "That man… what's his name?"

"Finneas," their mother supplied with a small smile. Zenas remembered the first time he'd met Finn. He was tall and lanky, too thin and bony for his personal tastes, but right up Zeno's alley by all appearances.

"Yes, yes - Finn. Damn my forgetfulness. They've got a small portion of our business going out there, keeping the supplies flowing and such." Their father settled himself more comfortably in his chair as the footman helped him light his cigar with a thick, long match. "They'll be here for the ball, I imagine, but they like their solace."

"I don't blame them," Zane mumbled. "Dad, give me something to work with in Sina!"

The old man just chuckled. "Not in a hundred years." He took a sip of his scotch as Zane's face pinched up. "You'd need to quit this business with pissing all of your time away in the Military Police Brigade."

"Best not to say such things in front of Zahir," their mother said with a small smile.

"You'd need to have formal education and you'd need to learn how to run a business." A drag from the cigar came with a thick cloud of smoke. "No son of mine will be allowed to waste valuable resources just for the hell of it."

The twins laughed to themselves. Zenas let himself smirk just a little. He pitched the last half of the cigarette into the fireplace. Zane was scowling. Zach shared Zenas' own look of mild amusement. Micha was half asleep on the sofa, his hand propping up his head where his elbow rested on the arm.

"My children, husband," their mother addressed them all with a flourish as she polished off her tiny glass of brandy. "I bid you all goodnight. Breakfast, boys, and no butts this time!"

They each bid their mother goodnight with a soft kiss and a gentle squeeze of her hand. She looked better today, Zenas thought, less like a corpse. He hoped she'd be recovered for the ball - dancing had always been her favorite thing in the world. She'd taught him when he was still little. He and Zara had danced together every chance they could, too. They'd been the perfect partners.

He excused himself for the night, leaving his glass on the mantle. He was leaving tomorrow afternoon, so he wanted to make sure he was up early enough to bake with his mother in the morning. Sleep found him quickly, for which he was grateful.

* * *

When he arrived back at headquarters, he found Welcome first. He was lounging in the mess hall. Zenas slipped the bag from his shoulder and pulled the tray of confections from the top. Thankfully, none of them had been damaged during the ride. Welcome's eyes lit up. "Here." Zenas' grunt came as he shoved the tray across the little table between them.

"These yours?" Welcome asked, unwrapping the tray. He snagged one of the tiny lemon squares and bit into it. Zenas smirked at his moan. "Holy shit man; I forget you can cook."

Zenas snagged one of the miniature cookies for himself as he sat on the edge of the table. "Mom helped."

That stopped Welcome's next groan of pleasure. "She alright?"

"No." It was easy to be honest with Welcome, even when he didn't want to be.

"The chair again?" Zenas nodded his answer. Welcome finished off the last of the lemon square and licked the powdered sugar from his fingers. "Well, you might want to go give some of those things away before I sit here and eat them all."

Zenas cracked a smile. Welcome really would eat the entire tray if given half a chance. He picked it up and carried it through to the kitchen. Petra was in there, her back to him while she prepared some tea. The natural assumption was that it was for Levi. Ever since she'd been added to his squad, she was forever doing little things like that for him.

"Here." He was much more gentle with his tone to Petra than he was with Welcome. He placed the tray on the counter beside her. She jumped a little, staring at the tray for a moment. A wide smile broke out on her face as she looked up at Zenas.

"Those look delicious!" She snagged a ginger cookie and nibbled at it. A look of surprise crossed her face as she found the rich cream in the center. "Where did you get these?"

Zenas shrugged as he slipped a few more of the cookies from the tray. He found a plate for them before adding two lemon squares and a few Madeleines. He gave her a cream puff too - one of only three. "I made them."

Petra gave a tiny sigh as she finished off the ginger cookie. "I remember now… Last time you brought those tiny chocolate cakes and the apple tarts." Zenas nodded once. She was silent for a moment. She collected the tea set on a tray, ready to carry it upstairs. Zenas added the plate of sweets. If Petra wanted to share them, she could. "I have a favor to ask…"

Zenas knew it wasn't going to be something he wanted to hear, but how could he say no to her? "What is it?"

"Would you make a cake for Captain Levi's birthday?" She gave him a tentative smile. "I know you two don't exactly get along, but… I can buy the ingredients and everything. I just don't think he's ever had a proper birthday cake."

Zenas nodded once. With her hopeful smile, he didn't even feel bad about it. Truth be told, he enjoyed baking. Each creation was its own work of art. "What kind?"

"Whatever you think is best." Petra gave him a bright smile, but Zenas took that to mean she that she wasn't sure what he would like. He ran through a quick list of his favorite cakes in his mind. The sight of the orange zest in the bottom of the cups gave him an idea.

"Dobos torte, then, with orange zest instead of lemon." He couldn't help but return some of Petra's smile. "When is it?"

"Next week, a few days before we go out on the next expedition." She lifted the tea tray and stepped away from the counter. "Please let me know if there's anything I can do to help!" He stepped aside and watched her leave.

"Fuck dude, just kiss her already and be done with it." Zenas snapped his head around to glare at Welcome from the other entrance. He smirked and shrugged as he stalked through the room. "You took too long with my sweets." He snatched up one of the other cream puffs and bit into it, little flakes and crumbs sprinkling everywhere. There was a smear of the cream on his face. Welcome made to wipe at it with his sleeve, but Zenas shot his hand out and scooped it off with his finger.

"Don't waste this shit." He licked the glob from his finger and laughed at Welcome's flat expression. "It's too good for that."

"That's hardly hygienic." Zenas rolled his eyes at the sound of Wil's voice from behind him. He turned, propping his back against the counter. Welcome still had the tray in his hand.

"Hey, even Dr. Death should like your sweets!" He held out the tray to Wil. Welcome was the only one to really use the dark nickname, but he treated it like a joke. Zenas could always tell it make Wil uncomfortable, but he knew it was better for Welcome to joke about it and desensitize him to its use. When people began to say it in earnest in front of him, then maybe it wouldn't affect him as badly.

Wil stared at the tray for a moment, hesitating. "The lemon squares are the best." Zenas snagged one of the last few himself and bit into it, the powdered sugar dusting his fingers and sprinkling down over his jacket. He brushed it away as Wil reached for one. "They aren't poisoned."

Wil shot him a dark look before biting into the small square. Zenas smirked just a little with satisfaction as Wil's expression brightened slightly. He was enjoying the confection, even if Zenas knew he probably wouldn't admit it. He scooped the last cream puff from the tray and held it out for Wil. The kid looked like he could use a little cheering up. Eating something sweet had always helped him in the past.

"Hey, that's the last one!" Welcome whined as Wil took the pastry.

"Quit your bitching," Zenas muttered. "I can make more. Petra wants me to make a cake anyway, so I'll go ahead and get the stuff for more of those." He tried not to watch Wil bite into the cream puff, but he wanted to know what the kid thought of the fruity cream in the center. It was something new he'd tried. While Welcome and Petra would always praise his sweets, he wanted an unbiased opinion. Wil seemed to enjoy it. There was a softening in his expression that spoke of distant memories.

"Well let's go then!" Welcome snagged a macaroon and grabbed Zenas' arm, dragging him out of the kitchen. "I'll even help you."

Zenas laughed a little. "No way, not after you nearly burnt down the kitchen last time. Erwin would kill me if I let you near the stove again." They shared another moment of laughter, then bundled into their coats and headed for the market. Zenas found himself just a little proud that Wil had enjoyed the cream puff.


	8. Chapter 8: The Female Titan

**A Note from the Authors:** Written collaboratively, and as a result styles may differ slightly. Rating is for explicit content in later chapters (graphic violence and sexual situations) - do not proceed further if you are not of the age of majority or are otherwise uncomfortable with such content.

* * *

He saw the black flare as he push Zara harder, forcing her left and around a barn. One measly flare wasn't enough. It couldn't possibly relay the correct information. This wasn't some 'regular' Abnormal Titan. This one was...

"Daus!" Carolina screamed at her partner as he was smacked to the side with one careless swat of the Female Titan's hand. It was all Zenas could do to keep Zara going, to move out of the way, because he knew there was no fighting this one. Half of the right flank was dead already. He added his own black flare to the mess, but aimed it for the Female Titan's eyes. All he needed was a few seconds…

He stood in the stirrups and tried to signal the others. Some noticed and followed his lead. They broke further right, avoiding the center of the formation. He led them, praying for the Female Titan to keep going. He'd seen her - it - whatever - grabbing the spot where they dealt killing blows. He didn't entirely understand the situation, but that was no normal Titan.

There was a small group with him - maybe a dozen. He lead them off to the right, breaking away from the formation and trying to reach a small grove of trees that might have had fruit on them at some point. Once more or less hidden beneath the thick canopy, he waited. The others around him did the same, just watching. The Female Titan seemed to lose interest in them for the moment, and began a slow jog - straight for the center of the formation.

"We need to get around to the rear and alert the others." Zenas glanced around him. He was merely waiting for someone to take the lead back, but now that he looked around, he spotted newbies and others who hadn't been around for long - no squad leaders. He rolled his eyes and dug his heels into Zara's flanks, leaving the little copse. Turning to face them, he raised his voice, "What are you waiting for? Let's go!"

The longer they were out here, the more time that Female Titan had to kill more of their people. The death around him was enough to make him gag, but he tried to ignore it. Half-dead corpses were still trying to reach out, still begging to be saved. There was nothing he could do for them. He led the little group away from the carnage. He didn't think he was imagining the silent resentment in the stares of both the living and the dead.

They ran for the center rear flank as fast as they could manage. He could see the outline of the Female Titan off to the right as they circled around behind her and passed her. He shouted his report to Nanaba, then fell back, wondering how they were supposed to salvage the formation at this point. He was given no orders, so he took his standard place on the outskirts of the right flank, though he was surprised a small group of people was still following his lead.

Whatever was left of the right flank was catching up, having realized that the entire flank had fallen to pieces. Far too few people were left. His stomach tightened as the group morphed, some joining him and others falling away to the center. The were at an old village, but he didn't like the feel of the place.

Three Titans seemed to appear from the very ground, popping up from behind buildings. They were forced to engage them as the first reached out a hand for two of the newbies. He and several others were in the air, but there was no coordination. One of them wound up right in the jaws of a Titan, having flown straight to it. He cursed.

"You two - distract it! Killian, take the head!" For some reason, they listened. "Over there - yes, you, you stupid fuck - take the ankles and let Lannie have the head." Again, obedience. He glanced around, but there was no time. The third Titan - the one who'd eaten the newbie, had already found himself another snack. The deaths of the other two Titans happened around him as he went for the third on his own - a stupid plan, but his only option.

"Watch it!" Featherstone cut beneath him, hopping into the fray and playing distraction. "Hurry up!" He nodded, swinging himself around and arching as he started the tight spin. His blades met flesh and the Titan sank to the ground. Leaping away, he tried to get a quick survey of the damage. No more Titans - but

"Fuck!" The Female Titan had reached them once again. He lowered himself to the ground, hitting just a little too hard and rolling. He climbed into Zara's saddle once more and motioned for everyone to run. "Don't fight it!"

The few who'd just arrived - the ones the Female Titan had chased to this spot - resettled into their saddles and urged their horses forward. He spotted Wil and noticed him craning his neck back to one of the newbies. Zenas screamed for the others to keep going even as he turned Zara and headed straight for the Female Titan. Wil had slowed his horse. He was jumping to the ground and running for the newbie - a girl who was still somehow impossibly alive.

"Ives!" Zenas reached him in just a few seconds. Wil was bent over the girl, a tourniquet already out of his satchel and in one hand. The Female Titan was getting closer…

"I can save her!" Wil was shouting even as Zenas rode up beside him.

"No, you can't!" He grabbed the back of Wil's cloak and jerked him backwards, forcing him to stand. "We're all gonna die if you stay here!"

"Just let me -"

"No, dumb ass!" Zenas jerked back once more on Wil's cloak, making him stumble backwards. He bent, half out of his saddle, and wrapped one arm around Wil's waist. He hauled him up and in front of him as he dug his heels into Zara's saddle once more.

He could feel the Female Titan's footfalls behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, he cursed again. She was close - far too close - and Wil's extra weight was only slowing Zara down. He cut sharply to the left, making Zara scream a complaint at him. The Female Titan reached down, ready to knock them away as she'd done to Daus. Another harsh tug on Zara's reins and she stopped short, raring back. The giant hand missed - by just a few hairs. She didn't stop to finish the job, though, just raised her other hand to the back of her neck and kept running straight.

"Take me back!" Wil demanded. "That Titan is gone, so let me go save that girl!"

"No!" Zenas whistled sharply, hoping to call Wil's horse over to them. They began to trot along, following the Female Titan's path of destruction. "You can't save her." He was looking for Wil's horse, deliberately avoiding glancing at Wil himself.

"She's going to bleed to death!" Wil was struggling to squeeze his way under Zenas' arm and back onto the ground.

"Fine!" Zenas shouted. He turned Zara and ran back for the little village they'd left behind. Wil's horse was still there - and so was the girl. He moved his arms and watched Wil nearly fall in his haste to be away from him, to get to the girl.

But she was dead.

Slipping out of Zara's saddle and walking towards the girl, he watched Wil's shoulders slump as he stared down at her. Off behind them, he could see the sky streaked with multiple flares of all different colors. He _knew_ what was probably happening.

"It's your fault."

Somehow, he was unsurprised by Wil's whisper. "I told you you couldn't save her."

Wil spun, his fist in the air. While Zenas could have stopped it, he let Wil punch him. Maybe it would do him some good, and he knew he could take it. Wil hit his jaw, knocking him to the side a little.

Bringing his hand around to rub at his jaw, he smirked. "Feel better?" Wil just glowered at him, still steaming. "We don't have time to stand here. Now let's go."

Wil didn't budge. "If you'd let me stay, I could have -"

"No, you couldn't have!" Zenas threw his hand out to gesture to the dead girl on the ground. "Take a second and fucking _look_ at her, dumb ass! One of her legs is gone and her chest has been crushed in. There's no coming back from that - not out here. And where were you planning on putting her after you'd 'fixed' her, huh? We don't have any wagons. You would have had no way to move her. So stop. _Stop_ and lets go."

He clicked the back of his teeth with his tongue and both horses came to him. Wil wasn't moving. Zenas shoved the reins at his chest a little too roughly, making him stumble. After that the anger was back, sharper than the scalpels in the bag at his side. He hauled himself into Zara's saddle and waited for Wil to do the same.

"You've got about three seconds to get your ass on that horse before I leave you for Titan food," Zenas snapped. "Wanna sit there and sulk about someone who's already dead or you wanna get to the center and maybe - just _maybe_ \- do something fucking useful?" Rather than wait for an answer, Zenas left.

He knew Wil was following him. He didn't have to turn around and look at him to know. His last insult had probably hit home. Nudging Zara into a gallop, he aimed for the remainder of the formation. There were others still coming from the rear - the last of them he assumed. Recalling the maps he'd looked over before heading out here, he recognized the area.

"Fuck." The Titan Forest was ahead of them. He could see the tops of the trees already.

"Split up and go around!" The orders were shouted back just as he caught up. Glancing over his shoulder, he found Wil's eyes narrowed. They knew something wasn't right. The plans they'd been given had said nothing about this forest. "Keep the Titans out of the forest!"

It took a while to get to the trees, but once they had, they found most of the rest of the Corps hanging around the perimeter, just standing on the huge branches and waiting. Zenas could see the supply wagons headed through the center. He made Zara slow as he breached the first line of trees - and cursed when Wil kept riding.

"Where do you think you're going?" Zenas shouted after him.

"To where I'm needed!"

Groaning, Zenas set off after him. "You're going to get yourself killed! Get back here!"

"Didn't you just tell me to do something useful?"

"Dying isn't being useful!" Zenas reached for Wil's horse's bridle, aiming to stop him, but the horse jerked to the side.

"What is it that you think field medics do, Zenas? I need to do my job - why don't you do yours and watch my back, if you're so concerned about it?"

"Arrogant little shit!" Zenas spat.

They were coming up on the supply wagons now and following closely. They got a few looks of confusion, but no one told them to leave. The sounds of the wheels over the old, rough road that stretched through the center of the forest drowned out the tense silence, though they all felt it. Whatever their purpose was here, maybe a handful of them actually knew anything about it.

When the signal to stop eventually came, Zenas and Wil fell back to watch. The others were scrambling to unload the wagons. The moment he saw beneath the tarp, Zenas knew shit was about to hit the fan. He felt his stomach sink into his feet.

"We're going to capture it."

"What?"

He looked over at Wil, his mouth suddenly very dry. "We… They want to… _catch_ that Female Titan." Jerking his head around, he searched for Hange.

"Hey - you two aren't supposed to be…" Hange looked ready to thwap Zenas in the back of the head, but didn't. "Make yourselves useful and help unload!"

"Hange wait!" Zenas raked his hand through his hair, frustrated. "That… That Female Titan is… intelligent." He put his hand over the back of his neck. "She… It was doing this as it ran."

Hange's eyes narrowed. "Anything else to report?"

"It wasn't killing people randomly." They both looked to Wil and waited for further explanation. "It was… looking at them first, before killing them."

"That's it?" Wil nodded, and Hange gave them an erratic grin. "Excellent. Now get busy and then get to the trees." Zenas and Wil were left to assist with the wagons.


End file.
